Not Dead, Sleeping
by FountainPenguin
Summary: In an alternate universe, following the All-Stars finale Mike's ex-alternate personalities wake up in their own individual bodies in the middle of a city park with no idea where, who, or what they are- only that they are connected as though by some invisible force like the gap they all share between their front teeth. (Written December 2013 - November 2015)
1. Not Dead, Sleeping

His head _hurt._ __

 _Really_ hurt. Absolutely, undeniably, positively ached. So did his arms. And his foot. And his back. And his legs. And his chest. Not to mention his nose. The only part of him that didn't hurt, it seemed, was his left cheek. A small consolation.

He wanted to sit up more than he could remember wanting anything else, but a few attempts later he found that he simply lacked the strength. He made it almost halfway up before the weight of his head grew too heavy for his neck, and he let it fall back in the grass with a soft _thud_.

A groan wafted up from somewhere to his right. "Only highest Heaven is knowing how sore Dodger is feeling right now."

He stared blankly up at the sky, watching as thin, scruffy clouds scampered across the blue. There was silence.

"Dodger?" he asked at last.

"Who is being zhere?" Her voice was tired. He felt a groping hand land on his foot. The fingers tightened, then moved up his leg, and finally Dodger was able to use him to pull herself up into a sitting position. They locked eyes, but neither one of them said anything. They just stared at one another, bewildered together.

"Oi, dingo..."

That was a third voice. With considerable effort, he flopped over onto his side to see who had made the noise, and if he should care that he existed. This new figure wore a tattered corduroy jacket and had curly brown-blond hair that cowlicked near the base of his neck. Somehow, unbeknownst even to him, he recognized the man instantly.

"Good morning, Seeker."

"Seeker, eh?" Seeker opened one eye. "Are you talkin' ta me?"

"Yeah." Yet a _fourth_ voice. He shifted his eyes to see that said fourth form had sat up and begun massaging his wrists. "I think he _was_ talkin' to ya, smart-mouth."

Seeker narrowed his eyes. "Steady there, cockatoo. Ya need me ta teach ya a thing or three 'bout respectin' your elders?"

"Shirtless," Dodger greeted without enthusiasm.

"Lance-a-lashes," he shot back, scrutinizing her up and down.

"Snot-nose."

"Twinkletoes."

"Meathead."

One final groan, longer and louder than Dodger's had been. "Would you dang punks quit your bellyachin' and keep it down?"

He sat up quickly then and all four of them - he and Dodger and Seeker and Shirtless - stared at this fifth form in the grass. More than any of them he looked out of place with his button-down suit (classy coattails and everything!) and his collared white shirt. There was even a top hat perched on his chest. A bright shock of messy gray hair was fanned out beneath his head. He lay on his back with one arm thrown across his eyes, and he didn't look like he would be going anywhere anytime soon. He gave a sniff as though he saw them watching him even with his face covered.

"I'll teach you lot of no-good ruffians about _respecting your elders._ "

Somehow, Seeker produced a fedora from behind his back, and he snapped it once in the air before setting it on his head. "Well," he said, "that's a ruddy nice way ta greet a kookaburra in the mornin', eh Fury?"

"Aw, go cry me a river and haul your droopy butt over the bridge." Fury took his arm from his face and held out his hands, waving them a few times and grunting a whole lot until Dodger impatiently grabbed his wrists and pulled him upright. They were all sitting in a circle now, just blinking and staring at one another.

 _I know them,_ he thought, but he couldn't yet... quite...

Shirtless, aside from lacking half his clothing, stood apart from the rest of their bunch with his deeply tanned skin - tanned even deeper than Seeker's - and his close-cropped, greasy-looking hair. A cord was wrapped around his neck, tied off at the end by what appeared to be a gold-glazed shark's fang. Dodger's hair too had a sort of shine to its blackness, but hers, on the other hand, fell in a great wave over her shoulders and poured down her back halfway to her waist. Quite the contrast to her snow-pale skin and the sandy dress that she wore.

Then there was... him. He didn't remember his name, and he looked down at his bony little frame as though that could somehow trigger forgotten memories. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt in a shade of green that was almost sickly and delightful, like the scales of a lizard, along with a pair of black sweat pants. Nothing particularly flashy, but comfortable. His skin, though pale like Dodger's, had a faint pink tint underlying it like a sunburn. The thought alone made him itch.

Shirtless was the first to break the silence, not even glancing up from the fingernails he was picking at with his thumb. "So, anyone got any bright ideas 'bout how we ended up out here?"

Dodger rubbed her forehead, lips pursed. "And vhere is 'here' being, exactly? Dodger is not remembering anyzhing about..." A tight pause. "Anyzhing."

Fury sighed like the wind, and Seeker tipped his head. "What say you on it, Envy? Go on now, don't be shy. There's a good joey."

There was a second pause, until he realized that Seeker and Dodger were both looking at him.

"Envy? Are you trying to imply that's me?"

"Likely wouldn't be sayin' it if I thought it was wrong now, eh?"

He touched a hand to his chest. _Envy._ The word did seem vaguely familiar... Reassuringly so.

Shirtless stood and traced his fingers through his mussy hair, still examining the nails on his other hand. "Well," he said, "I'm pickin' out some trees and grass... Looks like a pond over that way, maybe. I'd say we's landed ourselves in a city park of some kind."

Dodger flicked a ladybug off her elbow. "You do not say..."

"Come on, mates." Seeker stood too and offered one arm to Envy and another to Dodger. She in turn took one of Fury's hands, but Envy didn't. "We ain't gonna be gettin' anywhere by sittin' around out here like emus. I say we all strike out for the nearest town, eh?"

"I suppose it's as good a plan as any," murmured Envy. A long lock of black hair fell into his face. He pushed it back behind his ear with a frown.

Fury drew himself up to his entire height - which wasn't much considering that he was slouching, a hand placed against his back. "Back in my day, we didn't wake up lost in some darn park with our darn memories wiped. Stupid punk kids these days."

"If your memories are wiped," Envy droned, "then how can you possibly remember what it was like 'back in your day', old man?"

Fury looked right at him then, and it hit Envy for the first time that he had only one eye. A blue one. An eyepatch covered his left socket.

"Punk," he snarled, the wrinkles on his face twisting. The result was a pinched pug-dog-like face, though Envy wasn't quite sure how he knew what exactly a pug dog looked like.

"Come on now, we ain't got no need ta fight." Seeker stopped walking and stretched his arm up into the nearest tree. There was a snap and a flurry of raining leaves. Seeker briefly paused to admire the silver branch, then passed it off to Fury. "Here ya go, geezer. Try this on for size, eh?"

"Hmph. Now that's more like it." Fury adjusted his top hat and started off again, his makeshift cane tapping on the ground. He looked back only once, eyebrow raised, and called out, "Well? I'm not getting a lot of things I want right now, and I'm especially not getting any younger!"

Envy tucked his fists into the pockets of his sweatshirt and found himself falling into step alongside Dodger. When he began whistling a light tune she glanced at him, her frown deepening.

"Dodger is knowing you from somevhere," she said.

For some reason, Envy found this comment irritating. His shoulders tensed up, lifting nearly to his ears. "Yes, and so what? I'm pretty sure that I know you from somewhere too, confetti-bit."

Her eyes, chestnut-colored, narrowed further. "Dodger does not zhink she vas much liking you back zhen ei'zher. So, vould you care to be explaining to her how ve vere ending up out here in ze first of ze places?"

"Listen toots, Here's my little newsflash for you - I know just as much about all that as you do."

She tipped her head. "Or perhaps you are knowing more."

Shirtless spun around to face them and began walking backwards, even managing to duck a tree branch as he went. "Ayo! Hurry up or we'll leave the two of ya behind for the gators to get at!"

Seeker: "Go on with ya, mate. There ain't any gators in this neck a' the woods."

"Oh yeah? And d'ya expect me ta believe ya'd know it if there weren't, hat-hair?"

"'Cuz I reckon I woulda sensed 'em if there were. I've got me the ears of a Tasmanian devil an' the nose of a fresh dingo."

"Yeah? You wanna pick a fight about it? _Ow_!"

Envy couldn't suppress his smirk when Fury turned and whacked Shirtless on the back of the head with his walking stick.

"Hey! _Geez_ Pops, what the heck was that for?"

"Stuff up your pie piece, ya ninny!"

Shirtless muttered to himself as he massaged his head and slouched after Fury. Envy watched this in amusement, then began to whistle once more. Again, Dodger shot him a strange look.

"Ve are not all looking alike," she said aloud in her accented English, "and Dodger is not seeing yet how ve could ever have become like friends if ve so irritate vun anozher... but Dodger knows that somehow ve are all connected."

"Pray tell, how exactly do you figure that, doll?" Envy asked, pausing from his whistling just long enough to ask her the question. Before answering, she spent a moment frowning at the back of Fury's head.

"Because unless Dodger is mistaken... Ve are all having ze exact same gap between our teeths."

The walk from the park to the road took nine minutes, and Envy kept expecting their memories to fade slowly back in as they went. They didn't. The five of them spent the time bouncing questions off one another - "How do you reckon we ended up out there?" "How do I know ya?" "You dang punks don't remember _anything_?" "Is zhis silly dress making Dodger look fat?"

Envy spent his time offering up the most sarcastic replies he could think of on such short notice - "Fell from the sky, butter biscuit," "Haven't the foggiest," "I remember that I hated you, turkey feather," and "Only from where I'm standing, tootsie roll." That did little to improve the others' moods.

"Will you shut your ding-dang mouth, ya rotten little whippersnapper?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes sir, O great superior one; I am at your command."

The walking stick snapped across his forehead so fast that he didn't even have the chance to duck. He fell back into Dodger's arms, and she dropped him to the ground in distaste.

" _Ow_! Why, you-"

Seeker pushed Fury behind him despite the old man's protests and said, "You wanna dance, mate? Go on then, let's dance."

Shirtless cackled and pounded a fist against his other palm. "Now this I've gotta see."

Envy glowered at them both and tightened his fists in the grass. During their walk he had easily deduced that, not counting Fury's slouch, he was the shortest of the gang. Not to mention, unfortunately but very undeniably, also the youngest. How did numbers work again? Hm. Well, he _definitely_ wasn't thirteen. He didn't know why that nagging thought kept popping up in the back of his brain, but it was obviously a lie.

So he'd be seventeen, and going on eighteen. Yes, that was definitely it. Duh. Still, even then Dodger and Shirtless had eight or nine years on him, easy, neck and neck like twins. Seeker had at least a dozen, and probably more. Maybe two dozen, actually.

Nah, couldn't possibly. After all, now he was seventeen. A shrimp of a seventeen-year-old, but practically an adult any day now. Seeker ought to know better than to mess with him. They all ought to. He'd show them up quite nicely in a fight. First he'd break Fury's arm, then strangle Shirtless, then he'd kick Dodger in the nose, then he'd bite off Seeker's ear and burn their remains to smithereens. It was about time they settled the pecking order here and now.

"...Whatever. Let's just go."

Strands of black hair had fallen across his eyes once again. Envy blew a puff of air at them and pushed them back from his face as he drew himself up to his full, clearly-seventeen-year-old height. There wasn't a whole lot of talking after that, so much so that Fury demanded to know what they were all plotting behind his back. Your murder, Envy replied, and instantly regretted that pathetic attempt at a comeback. Had his jabs always been so sad?

But finally the trees peeled away and the grass ran itself out to stubble, and they were out.

They hovered there at the edge of safety, staring at the street with its cars rushing past. Envy reached into the nearest tree and caught hold of a branch to steady himself as he surveyed these new surroundings.

"So?" Shirtless locked one arm behind his head and stretched towards the sky with the other. "Where can a guy go to get a tan around here, d'you think?"

"Come off you now," Seeker scoffed. "You're as tanned over as burned bread twice, mate."

"It's _toast_ , ya curry brain!" Fury slammed his walking stick into the ground and stood there, snarling into the traffic. He made a bit of a ridiculous sight there all dressed up, his coattails flapping, his thick gray hair ruffling about him in the wind of passing cars. No one cared.

Dodger bounced anxiously on the tips of her toes. "So? Vhat are ve doing now?"

"Gotta pass these here iron ponies." Seeker jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the cars on the road. "What's it look like, sheila?"

"Well." Envy released the tree and held up his arms. "This has been a tingle-filled joy for me. However... this is where I'm bowing out."

Dodger whirled on him instantly. "You are about to do ze _what_?"

"Yo - For once, I'm with Twinkletoes here."

"Ya've only known her for fifteen minutes, ya porridge head!"

Shirtless shook his head and stepped towards Envy. "Ya can't just... _go_."

"Oh?" Envy arched one brow, keeping his hands in his hoody pockets. Dealing with his shoulders was the hardest part, but he managed to keep them relaxed. Barely. "And you're going to try and stop me?"

Shirtless opened his mouth, but shut it again. He frowned over at Seeker, who frowned at Fury, who just rolled his eyes and muttered something about runaway tween kids these days, dagnabit. Tween. Bah. Yeah right.

"Did you honestly expect," Envy asked in as bored a tone as he could muster, "that I would willingly stick around a bundle of nitwits for all eternity?"

"But..." Dodger reached out one hand, and Envy shifted away on his heels to avoid the grasping fingers. "Are you not feeling it? It is being much more somehow zhan just ze gap between all our teeth. Ve are connected. You cannot be leaving us. Not for good."

"Like it or not, Pixiedust, I'm going." And with that, Envy twirled around and walked away down the sidewalk, whistling. Where would he go? He didn't know yet, but he didn't plan to waste another second of his life around that pathetic bunch of fools. Who knew- Maybe in another time he had loved them, but he had no such memories anymore. Bailing out on them now before he could get emotionally attached was fair game, no regrets.

Seeker stepped aside to let him pass, which caused Shirtless to splutter. An argument broke out, but Envy didn't care to listen to what it was. He made it to the end of the block just as the crossing signal flipped from red to white, so he walked on.

He had hardly touched the other side of the road when the headache slammed straight into his face.

A wave of nausea washed over his entire body, cutting off his whistling abruptly and dropping him to his knees in an instant. His head erupted in a barrage of colors - a few thousand separate shades of green whirling like a kaleidoscope inside his head.

 _"No!"_

The word was fuzzy and static, but Envy could make it out nonetheless. Was that _his_ voice? Did he sound like that? He didn't sound like. Did he? Ick.

 _"D-don't do this! I'm a_ part _of you!"_

 _"Yep,"_ came the reply. Blunt. Remorseless. _"A part of me that I don't need anymore."_

A bolt of lightning seared through his brain. Envy's eyes stayed shut, but his mouth fell open and he grabbed for the sides of his head. The voice said only one more word, warbled and faded.

 _"Good-bye..._ "

Someone grabbed his arm. The touch singed Envy's skin, and he screeched and tried to shove the other person back, but they held on.

"Kid, can you hear me? Are you all right? Do you need medical attention?"

Envy was heaved back up to his feet. And suddenly, it stopped. The kaleidoscope of green vanished, and so did the voices. He had a splitting headache. Literally, knowing his luck today. His forehead flared as though some lunatic had thrown acid across it, though Envy wasn't sure how he knew what acid was or what it would feel like when it hit.

A man stood before him, a man with dark skin and even darker eyes. His grip on Envy's forearm was like a chain.

"Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Envy just squinted at him, processing the existence of words but not the meaning behind them.

"Are you all right, kiddo?" the man asked a third time. "You looked like you were having some sort of seizure."

"...No, I..." Distracted, Envy blinked past the man and back down the sidewalk where he had come. Fury, Seeker, Shirtless, Dodger - all of them - were sitting on the ground with their hands clutched over their ears.

All of them.

"I, uh... I-I was walking and I, uh... I accidentally tripped. Right here. On the sidewalk. Where I'm pointing. Just now."

The man raised a doubtful eyebrow, but he let go of Envy's elbow when Envy pushed his hand away.

"If there is anything-"

"No, please - Don't let me keep you." Envy stuffed his hands back into his pockets and inwardly rolled his eyes.

"...If you're entirely sure." The man began to walk again, peeking back over his shoulder only once. Envy offered him the slightest of nods, and the man turned a corner around a building and was gone.

Now Envy studied the sidewalk before him warily. Like the man, he too checked over his shoulder. Shirtless was standing now, arms crossed, sneering at the nearest cab driver. Seeker was in a crouch with Dodger clinging to his forearm as she struggled to climb to her feet without revealing anything beneath that applesauce-colored dress of hers. They seemed to have recovered.

Well. Here went nothing, then. Envy reached out with his right leg, his foot hovering above the cement, and then he placed it down. A sharp pricking began in the center of his brain like the second hand on a ticking clock. A bit bolder now, Envy took another step forward.

The rush of nausea came back, piercing into him full force. Again came that voice - _"A part of me that I don't need anymore."_ Envy yelped, immediately bit his tongue, and stumbled away and fell back on his rear. The pain subsided when he moved backwards, but that pricking sensation returned to his whole skull. One hand cupped over his forehead, he glanced past his shoulder once again to see that Seeker and Shirtless had both collapsed. Fury screamed something that contained the word "Dagnabit!" more likely than not.

Great. _Just_ fantabulous.

Envy stood as slowly and nonchalantly as he could. Again he blew sticky strands of hair back from his face, and then without pause he turned on his heels and set off back across the street the heartbeat the coast was clear. He did not run, only walked with a half-grimace, half-smirk on his face, and the closer he grew to the others the higher his shoulders rose until they were almost brushing his ears.

He stopped in front of Dodger. "Well," he said, "that was certainly... interesting."

She gave him a nasty glare and pushed herself up to her feet, sandy skirts flowing around her knees. " _You_ ," she snarled, jabbing a finger against his chest. She jabbed again for good measure.

Envy placed one arm behind his back and the other across his stomach as he ducked his head. "At your service, it would seem."

"Dodger said it." She spun away to face Seeker, folding her arms. "Vas Dodger not saying it? Ve are having ze connections vith each other zhat ve are not able to be seeing."

"Ayo." Shirtless took his hands away from his temples, staring at Envy over Dodger's shoulder. "How the heck'd ya do that to us, pipsqueak?"

"Saw ya take a tumble back there, mate," added Seeker with a tip of his fedora. "Ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Rotten kids these days. Always _thinking_."

Jovially Seeker replied, "Oh, hush up now, ol' man," without taking his gaze from Envy's face. He lifted one eyebrow, repeating his question without words. For his part, Envy stayed silent. He rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands tucked away in his pockets. Long moments passed, but the others didn't say anything - not even Fury.

He didn't want to say it. He really, _really_ incredibly very much so didn't want to say it, but finally Envy took it upon himself to snap the silence.

"We're stuck. We separate, then it would seem that... sickness comes and gets us. We must keep together always; we'll never last on our own."

A grin split across Seeker's face, showing that gap between his front teeth that all of them shared. "Looks like the ruddy lot of us is gonna be the best a' pals forever 'en, eh?"

"Yeah." Envy put bitterness into the word and spat on the ground just in front of his feet. "Regular BFFs. I can _hardly_ retain my ecstasy."

"Kids these days and their friends." Fury rapped his walking stick against the concrete. "Back in my day, we didn't have no _friends_."

"You don't got friends _now_ ," Shirtless retorted, only barely beating Envy to the punch.

Fury looked away with a scowl. "Dang _friends_ , always pokin' their noses up into other folks' business."

"So." Envy had taken his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms, but now he decided that he preferred his hands in the pockets of his hoody and so replaced them. "We're cursed to stay in one another's company. We haven't the faintest idea who we are, where we are, or where we came from. As much as I am having the time of my life right now, I have to be the one to ask: What course of action are we planning to take from here on out?"

A brief silence fell, or at least as much silence as there could be what with cars rushing past them on the street, and finally the question was answered by Dodger, who was tapping her forefingers together against her upper lip.

"I zhink," she said in her careful way, "ve are needing a place to have us be staying at for keeps. To do zhat firstly, ve must be finding us a vay to be securing an incoming. Ah, income, _da_."

Shirtless grunted, "What's an income?" and only when he received sharp glances from the others did he suddenly blink, snap his fingers, and sputter, "Oh, you're talkin' 'bout moneys!"

"Yes," Envy repeated. "'Moneys'."

Shirtless held his hands up as though in surrender. "Ayo, I never claimed a' be the smartest guy on the block - only the best lookin' one."

"Be a few drops less modest, why don't you?" Envy glanced away and swept his eyes up and down the buildings on the far side of the street, bouncing on his toes. Then he turned back to Dodger. "Hold on a moment now. How did you remember that bit about needing money to secure us a place to stay?"

Silence fell. Dodger blinked and swayed slightly on her feet. "Dodger...is not sure."

Seeker cocked his head to the left. "I 'member that too, now that ya've said it out loud, sheila. Don't reckon I did a shake before."

Envy shook his head, reluctant to admit that he had been about to say more or less the same thing. It was getting fairly late in the morning, and He didn't spot a 'Help wanted' or 'For hire' sign dangling from the front of a single shop on the far side of the street.

Come to think of it, how did he know what he was looking for?

"Dodger is seeing a diner," she offered, nodding her head towards the end of the street, the opposite direction from the one Envy had tried to walk off in. "She can cook."

Shirtless took his hand away from his forehead. " _You_ can cook," he snapped. "Ain't _she_ can cook. It's _you_ , ya get it, Sparklekiss?"

Dodger looked perplexed. "Vhat is being ze difference?"

"A diner." Envy rocked again from toes to heels, toes to heels. "I imagine that won't pay well at all."

Seeker said, "An' ya know this because...?"

"I just do," Envy growled back, and he flicked his eyes away. A faint heat rose in his cheeks when Seeker's gaze continued to bear into him. He didn't want attention. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Back in my day, a handful of nickels was enough to keep an entire bushel of us fed for a week," Fury declared, straightening up importantly. "I don't plan to sit on my grizzled ol' butt out here on the road until I die. _This_ senior citizen needs a proper roof over his head, dagnabit."

"Then why don't you go and sell that pretty coat of yours? Should fetch a pretty penny."

"Who do I look like to you; a flower child? I will _not_ be walking 'round this city all bare-chested-like, ya goldfish brain!"

"Whyever not?" Envy inclined his head. "Shirtless does it."

Shirtless looked up from picking at his fingernails, then looked back down again.

"Cookies," Dodger said, and that word somehow decided everything. The five of them trudged down the sidewalk until they stood across the street from the little diner.

"They ain't on the markie for employees," Seeker noted, face twisting. "Aw, curse it."

"It vill not be hurting us to asking," insisted Dodger, and so they did. The manager, a short and round stuffy-looking sort of man with a permanently-flushed face, shooed them away before they had gotten ten words out between them. He seemed to find Shirtless annoying especially, ranting something about 'no shirt, no shoes, no service', and particularly not when there were decent customers and children inside who were trying to have a peaceful meal. At that, Envy checked his own feet to find a pair of scuffed gray sneakers he hadn't noticed before. Fair enough.

Outside, Fury threw one hand into the air before wincing and placing it against his back once again. "Well, that's torn it. Anyone else got any bright ideas?"

The smirk came out before Envy could stop it, so he didn't try. He liked the feel of it curling around his face, and he twirled around on his toes and bowed to them all once again.

"You, my faithless comrades, can leave _that_ tiddlywink to me. Causing chaos just so happens to be my specialty."

Thirty-five minutes later, he had his pockets stuffed with rats and salami. Almost ironically, it was the handful of spiders that was the hardest to find, but that had never stopped him before.

... Before. Yeah.

Envy frowned at the itch at the back of his memory, then shook his head. He stood in the side alley partway behind the diner; the one with the green dumpster at its end. A metal door led directly into the kitchen from here. Envy wriggled in his fingers and eased it open a crack. The diner's cooks were hard at work scrubbing dishes and mixing food. As Envy watched, a frazzled waiter burst in, only to disappear back out into the main area with a bucket of water and a dishcloth that smelled far too strongly of oranges.

"Yo, Envy. Got the dogs."

That was Shirtless, who stood curiously at the end of the alley, but not curious enough to come any closer. His fingers were tightened around the respective collars of a greyhound and a terrier that he had found somewhere, although where Envy did not know. He looked away from the door, gave Shirtless a courteous nod, and then pulled his other fist from the pocket of his hoody.

"Go on now," he cooed, releasing the black widows. He'd caught only four of them, and they skittered across the floor before disappearing into the shadows. A boot came down on one of them and Envy put out his lower lip in a pout. That hadn't gone as well as he'd been expecting.

The rats went next. Catching _them_ had been simple, and they skittered and squeaked as they ran around the kitchen. Unlike the spiders, they didn't go so unnoticed.

"Rats! Rats in the kitchen!"

"The dogs," he hissed to Shirtless, shutting the door as he turned away. From his pocket he produced the salami and gave a wave and a whistle. The dogs' ears went up, they started to bark, and Shirtless let them go. The salami was then tossed into the kitchen. The dogs, yipping excitedly, went after it. Within seconds the kitchen was reduced to startled chaos, and Envy leaned back, arms folded and eyes shut as he drew it all in.

Once the coast was clear, he slipped inside and stuffed as much dumpster-junk as he possibly could into the large pot boiling on the stove, enough to make it bubble and overflow onto the stove in a sizzling mess and then onto the floor. The final result, a concoction containting fishbones and lint and hairballs and other random trash, smelled awful enough that even a blind man could have figured out that there was something wrong. Envy switched the stove up to max, tossed some rags into the stove fire, lit a few brooms, grabbed a bag of sugar, and barely made it out the back door again by the time the manager came in to see what his incapable employees had been doing.

Envy whistled as he walked from the alley and back to where the others stood. "Mission accomplished," he told them simply, and they spent several long moments amusing themselves with the sight of waiters and dogs and diner patrons all running around in a blind panic behind the windows. After a third of the employees had been fired, the other two-thirds had quit, and several of his customers were screaming about dog bites and animal control, the manager had been only too happy to hire them - even Fury - and even _Shirtless_ \- so long as they simply got rid of "that awful soup" and "those fox-sly rats" and "those horrible dogs" before rush hour came around at eleven o'clock sharp, and only if Shirtless would put on "this here red jacket before someone saw him going around half-dressed like that."

Funnily enough, he never once put two and two together. Stupid man.

There was paperwork to be done first, however. After the kitchen had been put back in some sort of order, the five of them clustered around one of the tables with the checkered cloth.

"Name?"

Slouched against the table and still feeling rather cocky about his job well done, he replied "Envy." Their to-be employer frowned up at them from behind his glasses.

" _Name_?"

"...Uh..."

Fury prodded Envy in the back with his walking stick.

"My name is... Elliot. Yes, that's definitely it. Elliot, uh... Smith."

That elicited a swift kick to the ankles from Dodger and a sigh from the manager, but he scribbled it down on his paper nonetheless. When prompted, Envy/Elliot named Shirtless "Monty" and Seeker "Dallas". All three names came from the 'Employee of the Month' wall, but if the manager noticed then he never said.

Fury named himself "Maximus" for no discernible reason as far as Elliot could tell, unless he actually had a sense of humor hidden under that mask of wrinkles and this was a joke in reference to his age. Dodger, on the other hand, was christened "Willow" by Elliot. The dagger-sharp glare she gave him suggested she knew this stemmed from her inability to properly pronounce words that began with 'W'. It would be hilarious forever; of that, Elliot would make sure.

Work began not too much longer after that - noon was fast closing in, after all, and several patrons had already formed an impatient little line - and the five of them retreated to the kitchen to plan their strategy.

"I have to confess, it would seem I look quite dashing in black and white," Elliot announced as he tugged on the cuffs of his sleeves. "Don't you agree?"

Maximus only _hmph_ ed, so Elliot squished the old man's face between his palms and put on an expression of sarcastic pity.

"Now baby, you go out there and show them all that Maximus is a force to be reckoned with. Just don't forget to _smile_."

"Aw, don't you be telling _me_ what to do, young whippersnapper. Dang kid."

"Come, Envy." Willow had found a bright red apron somewhere and tied it in an enormous bow both behind her back and in front of her stomach. "Do not be taunting him. You and Dodger must be starting vith ze cooking."

"Personally, I find myself prefering Elliot. And _you_ would do well to refer to yourself by your new name."

Willow scowled back at him, showing the gap in her teeth as she pulled back her lips. She brandished the wooden spoon in her hand, knuckles white, like it were a far more dangerous weapon and she thought he was afraid of her.

"You'll learn to answer it one of these days," Elliot promised. "That's all I'm ever going to call you."

"Be getting ze bread now," she told him stiffly, and he bowed.

"As you are vishing, my sugarcake."

She hurled the spoon at him, clipping Elliot over the ear, but he hardly cared. Whistling, he selected a nice knife to slice the bread with when Dallas yanked him aside by the collar.

"Why 'Smith'?" he demanded.

"It happens to be a very popular surname," Elliot replied, surprised both by the fact that he knew this and by the fact that Dallas seemed so upset. "I imagined it would help us blend in. What's your problem with it, and how funny will that make it for me over the coming months?"

Dallas only frowned. "...It jus' sounds familiar somehow."

"All the better, then," Elliot said with a shrug, and Dallas wandered off to fetch Willow a new wooden spoon.

Weeks passed by in this way. Like Elliot had predicted, the money they earned would not be enough to buy them a house - not yet - but the others remained hopeful. They reported to the little diner faithfully each morning, Monty and Maximus taking orders ("Smile" Elliot scolded Maximus every day) while he and Willow and sometimes Dallas did the cooking in the back and tried not to poison, strangle, mutilate, or set each other on fire while their employer was watching. Elliot wasn't sure if Trental was pleased with their work since everything about him seemed so incredibly grudging, but they never got fired.

And then, one day, _he_ appeared in the diner.

Elliot sensed him at once and jerked up his head at the exact same moment as Dallas and Willow. "Oi," Dallas called, setting down his cloth, "What's all that ruckamuck about, eh?"

The three of them clustered around the little window, locking eyes with Monty. He offered them a helpless shrug, face grim and his palm's heel to his forehead. It wasn't long before he and Maximus joined them in the kitchen.

"Who is he being?" Willow wondered for them all. "He is making ze hairs on Villow's neck tingle just by his being sitting zhere."

"Golden," Dallas said, like that was the boy's name.

Someone shoved Elliot from behind. Monty, by the sound of his voice. "Go get 'im, Ellie. You're cute and innocent. Ask 'im what he wants."

"Don't forget to smile," Maximus offered with a smirk of false politeness.

It signified that he was either a leader or the most expendable of their group - preferably the former - and so Elliot accepted the task reluctantly by slinking across the diner and trying to make it look like he wasn't.

"Um," he said when he stopped by the table in question. Just being near this boy blurred his vision and sent a prickling sensation over his forehead. "Can I help you somehow?"

"Huh?" Golden looked up sharply and sucked in a quick breath. "Ohhh my gosh."

Elliot flicked his eyes to the redheaded girl sitting across from Golden and frowned. There was something he hated about the color red, as he had become aware of over the past several weeks, but he didn't know what it was.

Golden cleared his throat. "Mm... Mmhmm... Uh. Wow. Okay. So." His hair was dark brown and spiked like tufts of untrimmed grass, and he ran his fingers through it, never once taking his gaze from Elliot's face. Elliot tried hard to be patient and unflinching, even though it would've been nice to blow the itchy strands of hair away when they fell over his eyes.

"Can I help you somehow?" Elliot asked again, and this time he pretended to smile. A faint trembling began in his feet. With Golden watching him like that, all he wanted to do was wither away into dust. It didn't make matters any better that the girl too was staring at him with wide eyes, her fingernails digging into the tabletop. The faintest "Meep" escaped her lips.

Golden shifted his eyes beyond Elliot's shoulder, and because of the reflection in the window glass before him, Elliot knew that he had caught sight of the rest of the pack. Their heads ducked away when Golden glanced over in their direction.

"Uh, could I just...?" Golden made a movement towards Elliot with his hand that made Elliot flinch more than he'd ever admit to the others. The hand withdrew, Golden looked back at his menu. "Uh... Well, you work here, I guess." He guessed. "What would you recommend?"

"The grilled cheese," Elliot answered without hesitation or thought. "Willow was born making it, and purely between you and me Dallas has a tendency to overcook the soup."

Now, why had he said that? Elliot frowned inwardly at himself as the prickling in his head grew sharper. What was it about this boy that was making him be so forthcoming? And why did he feel like he'd just named the food Golden had already been planning to order?

Golden and the redhead exchanged a knowing glance that made Elliot tense his shoulders. "Sounds all right to me," Golden said. "What about you, Zoey?"

"Definitely the grilled cheese for me too then, _Mike._ " The way she put emphasis on that name sent chills down Elliot's spine, and he felt a muscle in his cheek give a slight twitch. "And mint tea, please."

Elliot made a few marks on his notepad that he actually didn't need at all and offered a sweeping bow, just to be theatrical. "Your food will be out as soon as we get around to it," he said, and spun on his heels.

"Don't put any salt in it," Mike called after him. "That would just be _malevolent_."

A thousand stabbing needles raced over his skin. His vision went fuzzy with green. There were sparks in the back of his memory like someone had started up a conversation in the next room and he could hear the noise of it, but not make out the words. His heart seemed to skip at least half a dozen beats. Elliot froze in his tracks, then turned and fixed this Mike boy with a long, curious stare. "What did you just say?"

Mike smiled thinly into the water glass that either Monty or Maximus had set out for him. "Oh, nothing."

The prickling in Elliot's head had started to turn to a headache, so he sent Dallas out when the sandwiches were done. Dallas, however, began to choke when Mike glanced out the window and said loudly "Man, a tuba!" Monty dropped his soapy water bucket when Mike suggested to Zoey that she pour ketchup on her sandwich, and she slammed a palm on the table with a shout of "Vetoed!" Willow couldn't resist chiming in when their conversation turned pleasantly to the upcoming Olymplics. And Maximus, coming to fill their glasses, seemed taken aback when both the teenagers at the table asked him, quite politely, for a bowl of chester - "Uh, chest _nuts_ " - to split.

And yet none of them could figure out what all of this meant.

"Who _are_ they?" Monty demanded, swearing loudly and hurling his dishcloth down on the kitchen counter.

"Your guess's as fair as mine right about now, mate."

"Villow is not liking zhem two bits."

"Quiet down, ya porkheads," Maximus hissed as he glanced out the window separating kitchen from dining area. "Someone out there will hear you, dagnabit. You want to get us fired?"

It took all of Elliot's strength - every squirming little ounce - to creep his way back across the diner when Mike and Zoey were ready to pay their tab.

"Have a particularly _lovely_ evening tonight," he managed, locking eyes with Mike and then looking away just as fast. " _Please_ come again. Preferably sooner rather than later."

Mike laughed, showing a gap between his front teeth. It wasn't a particularly condescending laugh, but it raised Elliot's shoulders just the same.

"You know?" he said as he reached to intertwine his fingers with Zoey's, "I may just have to take you up on that."


	2. Not Fired, On Call

It was Monday - tomato soup day - which was probably the only good thing that ever happened on a Monday. Once the server had poured it into his bowl, Maximus offered a muttered thanks and moved off across the soup kitchen. The others had already gone and gathered somewhere else. Maximus's eyesight wasn't what it used to be (probably, anyway), and he found them over by the bulletin board more by sound than by anything else.

"Meathead!"

"Twinkletoes!"

"Snotnose!"

It was the same every day - Heaven only knew why those two tormented one another so. Dang kids. As Maximus approached he could finally see their blurry figures. Willow and Monty were fork-wrestling again over Elliot's head. He had an _All my friends are idiots_ look on his face and was gripping his own fork so tightly that it would probably disintegrate within the next minute. But despite the grumpiness on the teen's face, Maximus knew that Elliot would pour ketchup and salt in Willow's soup as soon as he thought he could get away with it. Why else would he be constructing a spoon catapult with his other hand?

"Lipstick!"

"Spike-hair!"

"Bigmouthed b- _Ow_!"

Maximus sneered and spun his walkingstick once in his fingers. "Ya loudmouthed kids. Back in my day, we didn't holler so loud the whole bloomin' soup kitchen could hear us!"

Monty mumbled something that Maximus couldn't catch and rubbed at the back of his head. With Willow searching for her fallen fork beneath the table, Elliot used his catapult to flip the salt shaker just past her seat. It knocked against the open ketchup bottle and fell back into Willow's soup bowl, the bottle twirling a full circle before splashing after it. He had returned to eating, poker-faced, by the time she sat up again.

"Ol' timer," Dallas greeted as Maximus slammed his tray down beside him. "Tomato soup Monday, eh? 'nough ta put a smile on anyone's face."

How many Mondays had it been since the Aftershock? Seven? Twelve? Thirty-nine? He couldn't remember - Curse his lousy memory. He narrowed his one good eye and loudly slurped the soup from his spoon.

Dallas put down his napkin. "What's eatin' at ya, kookaburra? _Somethin_ 's got yer face twisted up inta a knot."

This caught the attention of Monty, Willow, and even Elliot. Cornered now, Maximus let out a sigh and reached into his pocket.

"I got our paycheck from Trental today."

Monty grinned. "That don't sound too bad."

"It's not. Would you just let me finish?" Maximus glared at the teenager until he'd lowered his head, then went on. "More concerning is what he said after he gave me the darn thing."

"Which was?" prompted Elliot when no one responded.

Maximus ran his thumb along the envelope, then passed it off to Dallas and picked up his spoon. "He told me that my being so old makes some of his customers uncomfortable."

"Pah." Willow took another bite of her soup, either not noticing or pretending not to care what Elliot had done to it. "He has been saying such zhings for veeks. Just be ignoring him, _da_?"

"There's a wee tidbit more than that." Maximus too sipped his soup, then dabbed at his face with his napkin for no other reason than because he wanted to draw out the moment for as long as possible. "Some darn girls have come to apply for work there. From what I heard they're both cheerful, peppy, and with enough cleavage to catch even Ellie's eye."

Elliot about snapped his spoon in half. "I take offense at that."

"Same," muttered Willow just loud enough for Maximus to hear. "Vhat girl in her right mind vould be taking _zhat_ as a compliment?"

"... That wasn't exactly what I was going for."

He gave her hand a pat as he dropped his spoon against the side of his soup bowl so that it clinked. "I'm being let go."

"Sounds fair ta me," Monty said, grinning across the table and at Dallas. "We swap ol' timer here out for a pair a' hot chicks. I'm game."

That earned him a slap on the shoulder from Willow; Elliot scooted away his seat as she reached past him.

"Be shutting up! Zhis is not a fair arrangement! Ve cannot be losing him!"

"One by one," Elliot intoned as he leaned his chair back on two legs, "you'll all fall."

"'Cept you?" retorted Monty, struggling to shove Willow back into her seat.

"Ideally, yes, except for me."

Monty locked his foot beneath Elliot's chair to send the smaller teenager clattering to the floor. He rolled backwards and was up on his feet in two seconds, full of rage and looking rather silly silhouetted by yellow Lost Mutant Feral Boyfriend flyers from the bulletin board behind him. Maximus shook his head and frowned into his soup as the others continued to banter. It was Dallas who lay a hand against his shoulder.

"Come on, we'll figure somethin' out together, eh? If you could just prove that you're a li'l more than a sorry ol' sac a' skin and bones-"

"Thanks a lot, ya cabbage head." Maximus took his bowl and held it to his face. He drained the whole thing before he put it back on the table, and this time wiped his face with the back of his hand instead of a napkin. Apparently Elliot noticed this, because as he scooted his chair up to the table again he rolled his eyes and said, "Those goshdang kids today and their stupid _manners_."

Monty waved one hand. "Ayo, you ain't no spring chicken no more, and y'ain't got nothin' on a pair a' hot girls. Just quit while ya've still got your dignity left and hunt around town for another job."

"He _can't_." That was Dallas again, heavy-lidded, one hand to his cheek. "SDS - Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome, 'member, mate?"

"Well..." Here Monty faltered and looked towards Willow for support. "He could take up knittin' or somethin' in the corner."

"A dishvasher?" Willow offered reluctantly.

Even more reluctantly, Monty tried again with "I suppose we could try threatenin' Trental. Y'know, an 'all-or-nothin' sorta deal."

"Then we'd be out a' there faster'n a roadrunner sprints. We were lucky skunks enough that he allowed us to work in his diner in the first place without any a' the proper documents or anythin' way back then, but he don't _need_ us. We can all too easily be replaced. All he's gotta do is set out a 'Help Wanted' sign an' we're done for flat."

"Then we're finding vork at ze Sun Ray's grocery store up ze street," said Willow, obviously with more confidence than she truly felt.

Elliot let out a short laugh - "Simpletons," - and folded his arms. "From where I'm standing, the solution is simple. What we do is kidnap the girls, take them hostage, and set up an elaborate trap in an abandoned warehouse. Personally, I'm partial to having a candle burn through a rope that triggers one of those metal fox-catching bite things, you know, the ones that go _snap_! While this is going on, we leave a ransom note behind, and when everyone else goes looking for their poor lost sheep, we sneak into Trental's office and set fire to their résumés. He won't be able to hire them after that."

Dallas slammed his forehead against the table, no doubt restating his _We were lucky he hired us_ comment in his mind, and Willow pursed her lips. At that, Elliot bared his teeth and gestured at her with his spoon.

"What, you got a better idea rattling about in that empty skull of yours, tootsie roll?"

"No," Monty said, "this could work. But instead of chasin' after their résumés, ya could find out where they live, sneak inta their house, and set fire ta their birth certificates. That'd stop 'em from making trouble anywhere else for awhile too."

"Brilliant. All in favor?"

Dallas pushed Elliot's hand firmly back down to the table. "Come off it, ya wily li'l dingo. You're lookin' at all this the wrong way. What we've gotta do is do somethin' that'd show ol' Trental just what he'd be losin' if he sent ol' Max off. Somethin' _legal_."

Monty threw up his hands. "Well, there goes all a' Ellie's plans."

But Elliot looked thoughtful ... and almost confused. He turned around in his seat musing, "Show him off..."

Maximus decided that it was time to put an end to this discussion.

"I appreciate you young'ns' work, but it'll do no good. I'm a goner, dagnabit, and nothing you come up with is going to change that. We'll just have to deal with my being away somehow."

Willow's eyes widened. "But vhat about ze Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome? All of zhose 'eadaches and ze nausea..."

"Horses," Elliot said quietly.

Monty patted Willow on the shoulder. "Ah, we'll figure somethin' out, Twinkletoes. We could always sneak him in the back way and stuff him down in the cupboards. No SDS, everybody's happy. Problem solved."

"Great." Maximus narrowed his eye. "I can't wait."

Then he turned his head and saw that Elliot was smiling at him.

"Heeeyy Maximus," he said as he set aside his spoon. "You like horses, don't you?"

"Oh, just what are you getting at, young whippersnapper?"

Dallas suddenly straightened up. "Hang on - I think he's onta somethin' here."

Maximus watched uncertainly as Elliot leaned back in his seat and tried to grasp at something hanging on the bulletin board behind him. There was a long pause at their table, and someone nearby brought up the word 'llamas' in their conversation for some reason or another, but at last Elliot had yanked the paper down from its place and set it on the table.

"This," he said, "is how we'll do it."

Maximus's death was spelled out in eight little words: _Local horse race for charity, sign up today._

"No," said Dallas immediately, trying to push the flyer towards Elliot. "I take it back; that's too dangerous."

Monty joined forces with Elliot, and the two of them succeeded in crumpling the flyer in the middle as they shoved it back across the table. "Ayo, you got a better idea, flat-hat? At least _Ellie_ 's brain still works. That wasn't a compliment," he added to Elliot then, who smiled thinly and gave a short nod.

"Flat-hat?" Dallas looked hurt, the mirror opposite of Willow, who sat bouncing up and down in her seat.

"For charity. To be helping ze people like us! Oh, please Maxie, you must! You must! Zhis is our chance to give back, to show God how zhankful ve are for all zhat He has done for us."

Her words caused a slight lull in the conversation. Monty said, "What'd ya say?"

"Vell... God vas bringing us here for a reason. He 'elped us get our job at ze place of Mildred even vithout our paperworks in order. He guided us to zhis soup kitchen so long ago. Are you not seeing? Zhis is ano'zer sign now. God vants us to be zhanking Him by 'elping o'zers who cannot be 'elping zhemselves."

"God," Monty repeated, drawing the word out slowly. His face twisted, and he sat without moving. "Oh. Snap. I forgot about _Him_."

Elliot shrugged without looking up. A hand landed on Maximus's elbow.

"You don't have ta do this, ol' timer," Dallas told him softly. "We can... Aw, we'll find some other way, eh? You can count on Seeker."

But Maximus took hold of Dallas's hand and slammed it against the table so hard that the soup bowls rattled.

"No. I'm doing it." He reached for his walking stick as he spoke and stood, his voice growing louder the more he spoke and probably attracting a great deal of attention from the neighboring tables.

"I'm doing it. I am _sick_ and _tired_ of you punks just thinking of me as a deadweight. I am sick and tired of thinking of _myself_ as a deadweight!"

"Max-"

He slapped the hand away, then placed his own against his back. Curse his slouch; couldn't the whole Aftershock mumbo-jumbo at least have blessed him with a straight spine?

"Nobody lives forever. We all know that. I don't know how much time I have left. I want to _mean_ something."

"You are meaning everyzhing to us," Willow urged, having stopped her bouncing. "You are ... you are being our fa'zher."

There was a moment of uncomfortable shifting among her "brothers".

"Yeah," Monty said at last. "You're our pop."

"Our ol' man," Dallas agreed.

"I hated my father," Elliot said, staring at the table like in bewilderment that he remembered that. He cocked his head to one side. Then he gave a sudden gasp and slapped both hands over his face, drawing his legs up onto his chair.

"He's having another Flash. Dang it all." Maximus dropped the _sick and tired_ routine and reached across the table. "Monty, get him water - And be quick about it this time."

"With pleasure."

"Willow, fan him down."

She looked at him funny for a second, then understood and began trying to wave Elliot down with her hands. Several people nearby broke off from their conversation. Heads leaned forward to stare down the table at them.

"He'll be a'right," Dallas called to them. "Just a bit of a queasy stomach, eh?"

Maximus tightened his fingers against the table, both his walking stick and his weak back forgotten. They were lucky it hadn't been Monty this time; Monty didn't get Backflashes nearly as often as Elliot did, but he got them worse. Dallas blamed that strange boy Mike, always accusing him of witchcraft under his breath when the name came up in conversation, but Willow called them nightmares. It had been some time since either Monty or Elliot had gotten one smack in the middle of the evening like this.

Monty returned then with a soup bowl full of water and a cocky smile. "Cheers," he said, and poured it over Elliot's head. The cold snapped the teen from whatever he'd been seeing. He jumped to his feet, his chair crashing over backwards, and stood there dripping and trembling. He wasn't panting, not out loud, but his chest was heaving fast.

"Ellie...?" Maximus licked his lips and tried again. "Ellie, are you-?"

Elliot shot him a glance, his blue eyes wild.

"H-he hurt her," he said. He spoke so fast that his words ran together. "He hit her sometimes, and he hit her again, and he hit me when he found me hiding and cut open my skin and burned my wrist and locked me up in the punishment closet-"

"Whoa there, mate, settle down." Dallas held up his hand, and the movement caught Elliot's attention. He stared at it for a second or two, and then he visibly relaxed. He stayed standing, but at least his shoulders weren't pressed so tightly to his ears anymore.

"I'm going to do it," Maximus said, because no one had said anything for a long minute. "I'll see if I can join in the race. Willow is right. God wants us to give to charity. Ellie is right. We have to prove to Trental that I'm just as good at my job as anyone, even if I do have my age. Monty is right. Sometimes you've just got to take a risk. Dallas is right. I don't have to do this."

He flicked his gaze around the table. "I'm doing this because I _want_ to."

Dallas tugged on the brim of his fedora. "Your body ain't what it once was. If ya slip and fall, you may not be gettin' back up again."

"I know."

"Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome," Dallas tried again. "How far d'ya think you can get from us before those headaches kick in?"

"You'll be there with me, cheering from the sidelines." Maximus rolled his one good eye. "Do you have any brains under that big-brimmed hat of yours? Kids today, honestly. Looks, says here it's just two laps around the trails in Riverdale Park. We can do that in our sleep."

"We do sleep there," grumbled Monty, and Maximus rolled his eye.

"No, ya jello brain. The _other_ park."

Dallas drummed his fingers. "So tell me, mate: Where ya plannin' ta get yourself a horse at, eh?"

Maximus had been waiting for this question. He straightened up a bit, one hand clamped on his walking stick.

"Mike."

The whole process took four days. This time of year, Mike made it a habit to visit their diner at least twice a week, often with that Zoey girl tagging along after him. He stopped in late Tuesday afternoon, looking incredibly frustrated and bringing the rush of head-prickling sensation that always accompanied him. It affected the five of them quite obviously, but Maximus had yet to learn if Mike felt the same thing. On his worse days he hoped so, because the internal buzzing was annoyingly irritating. On other days he hoped that this boy, this boy who for some reason he connected with almost as much to him as the others, didn't have to put up with it.

Maximus explained the situation to Mike while the teenager sat tapping at his phone and sipping hot chocolate in his favorite chair by the window. He was vague about the details, asking about a horse for the race and trying to avoid the question of why he was entering the race in the first place, mainly because he was worried about Mike saying no and launching into a spiel of Too Old, Too Frail like Dallas had.

That was strange. Since when had he ever cared about someone so much younger than him telling him what he couldn't do?

Regardless, Mike seemed confused by the request. He frowned into his mug and drummed his fingers on its glass sides.

"I can see what I can do," he said at last, "but I'm not a miracle worker."

"It's important," Maximus tried again.

Mike tilted his head to the left. "I'm not saying that it isn't. Svetlana would be totally into the whole charity thing, and you always had a thing for animals."

A wave of head-prickling came over Maximus then. He grabbed hold of the table, washcloth balled in his fist. "What are you talking about?"

Mike's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. "Er, I..."

"You knew us before the Aftershock." Maximus sounded the words out slowly. He had suspected as much - all of them had - but hadn't really considered what that meant until now. His fingernails bit further into the cloth. " _You_ did this to us."

"No, I-"

"Dagnabit! That does it. What secrets are you hiding, you little-" He bit his tongue, then went on in a softer voice. "You owe us an explanation, sooner rather than later."

Mike's shoulders were rising towards his ears, exactly the way Elliot's always did when his frustration was growing, but Mike's expression told a story closer to panic than anger.

"I... I can't, it's ... it's ..."

Few people were in the little diner at this time of day. Maximus leaned a little closer.

"Try me, whippersnapper. Thanks to you I have to raise three sons and a daughter just off the income we get from a side-job so pathetic that even kids younger than you have turned it down. Dallas and I have agreed to work for lower pay just to keep from getting thrown out and replaced by someone younger. We eat down at the soup kitchen, we sleep in the park."

"I had to save you," Mike said pathetically, and his brown eyes were bright and wet. He lowered his gaze. Maximus ground his teeth and pulled back.

"Yeah? What fate was so bad, that the way we're living now seemed like it would be so much better?"

This was exactly the kind of stuff you had to face when a kid - a teenaged kid! - made life decisions for you behind your back, apparently.

When Mike didn't look up, he left without waiting for an answer.

But Mike did have connections. He was back with the horse bright and early on Saturday morning, and his explanation was just as vague as Maximus's one for wanting the horse had been. He said something about a cousin of a cousin of Zoey's, but that was the most they could get out of him.

"He is so much loveliness," Willow gushed as she ran her hands along the horse's forehead. He snuffled approvingly and started to chew on the ends of her black hair.

"A real beaut," agreed Dallas, propping his elbow up on the stallion's flank and winking her way.

"I guess he's decent enough." Monty didn't come within five feet of the beast, and when it turned its head in his direction he tensed and leapt another foot backwards.

The most Elliot offered up was a grunt.

Maximus knew what the horse was the moment he saw it: A lean toby-patterned pinto maybe fifteen, sixteen hands high with slightly-fuzzy hooves that suggested a hint of Clydesdale in his lineage, which was odd. Maximus wasn't sure how he knew all that, but somehow he did, and at once wondered who they had been back before Mike had come into the picture. Sometimes at night he dreamed of a vast library full of books and newspapers, where he could read to his heart's content. Perhaps such a place had really existed before the Aftershock. Dreams were made up of more past than present, after all.

"He should be fine," Mike said, offering the reins to Maximus with clear reluctance. "The race is casual; the idea was thought up by a few drunks and hippies and organized by people 'of a saner mind' about four years ago, and it's been a tradition ever since then. Zoey did a bit of asking around. Most of the racers are in their late teens or early twenties. 'Darn kids looking for a good time', huh Ches- Uh... Yeah, okay, no. I guess not. Um, so most of the horses in the race are on loan. Two or three of them are ridden by ranch kids - children of breeders who actually care."

"You two vere finding out all of zhat?" Willow looked impressed, which made Mike twitch and tug at the collar of his shirt.

"I, uh... I have a lot of free time these days." Mike cleared his throat and patted the horse's neck. "It turns out that Zoey's cousin Jessica has raced in them once before. I think she said on the older sister of this horse."

Dallas suddenly seemed more interested in the conversation. "Did she win?"

"Um... No."

"Hmph. Right pity."

Mike shrugged. "This horse may not be fast enough to beat the rest of the competition, but Jess's uncle Luke promised that he's very surefooted and easy to control. He should fare well enough, even for you."

Maximus eyed the stallion warily, tracing his thumb over the reins. It snorted once more at Monty and then turned its eyes on him. They stared at one another, man and beast, and after a moment he sneered back. That only seemed to amuse it. Finally Maximus grunted, "Does he have a name?"

"Mandelbrot."

And as if the whole situation couldn't get any more ridiculous, he was about to put his faith in a horse named after cookie bread.

"Cookie bread" was exactly the response he got from the man who helped him with the paperwork, and also the same response from the jockey who led her horse up beside him when the race was about to start. She was short and in all honesty a little plump, and the red rubber helmet she wore covered nearly all of her hair. Mike tried to catch her attention as he climbed onto a park bench beside Zoey. She ignored him.

Maximus recognized her immediately. She was... she was...

... He had no idea who she was, but he _knew_ her. He had met her. He had spoken to her. It was balanced right there on the tip of his tongue. He didn't recall seeing her in the diner, exactly ... but his forehead buzzed just a bit, and he predicted her voice before she even spoke.

"Ya," she told him absently, "My great, great, great, great uncle Daniel, he invented saddles. And my great, great, great grandmother Lucille, she invented horses, ya. Before her, people could only race on the backs of cows, ya, and that was really inconvenient, especially when the bulls were around."

She went on like this for a minute or two, but Maximus tuned her out. He watched as she swung herself up onto the back of her chestnut mare with the ease of someone who had done so several times before. Who was she?

"I'm Staci," she said, answering his question as though she'd plucked it from his mind. "You remind me of a friend I once had, ya - he just had one eye too. He was fun. I loved him. We talked a lot, or sometimes I talked to Mike instead. Is that a real eyepatch? Those were invented by my great, great, great, great grandfather Zachary, ya."

Maximus told her that yes, his eyepatch was real; no, his face had not been horribly scarred by acid; no, to the best of his knowledge his eye had not been poked out with a hot skewer; yes, he was pretty sure the skin was swollen and that he didn't have any eye at all, and then it was time for the race to begin.

"Ya, good luck," Staci told him, leaning over her horse's neck. No more comments about her alleged ancestors now - she was all business.

"Same to you, young whippersnapper," Maximus murmured back. He searched the crowd for Elliot. The five of them had gotten better at extending the reach of their Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome over the past weeks, and the idea had been to space the four of them out along the track in the hopes that Maximus would not suddenly feel nauseous and plunge off the back of his horse to certain death.

There was no sign of Elliot. His fingers tightened on Mandelbrot's reins. Sure, several dozen people had turned out to watch the race and Elliot was small, but some internal compass should have helped them spot each other. Maximus caught sight of Trental, tapping his foot and folding his arms, but no Elliot.

They got ready for the countdown. Someone had brought a checkered flag and was ready to wave it in just six... five...

And then there he was.

Elliot was on his back beneath a slender gray, unhooking the saddle strap before he rolled over to the next bay in line and went to work on that one too. And no one, crowd or jockey, noticed a thing. They were all too intent on watching the flag.

Two. One.

"Elliot, ya biscuit head!" Maximus screamed, but by then it was too late. The flag swung, the horses kicked into action, and the race was on.

Maximus was full of terror for the first minute. Hooves thundered all around, and he kept twisting to look back over his shoulder for any sign of Elliot's mangled body. A new thought came to his mind for the first time- If the five of them were connected by forces they couldn't see, what would happen if one of them was killed?

He spotted a flash of bright green hoody; Elliot had ducked and rolled away, and now sat crouched just beneath one of the crowd-control ropes, whistling his usual tune and looking extremely pleased with himself. That dang stupid kid. Maximus turned forward again right as one of the jockeys yelped and slipped from his horse's back, saddle and all. People in the crowd shouted, Maximus braced himself for the sound of bones crunching beneath hooves, but when he looked back again the man was sitting dazed but unharmed in the middle of the path.

The horses turned the first curve, sending a second rider tumbling. There were maybe a baker's dozen in all, which was more than Maximus had been expecting for such a small event in such a small city. Just under a dozen now, what with two jockeys down. Maximus hoped they'd get the two mares under control before they hurt someone in the crowd.

Mandelbrot's reins jerked in Maximus's hands. The pinto wanted to run faster. Maximus let him. He steered the stallion towards the left-hand side, the outer edge of the track. Mandelbrot passed a racer in a green helmet and Maximus pushed him harder. A few of the more adventurous crowdfolk who had come this far out cheered as they thundered into view. Maximus spotted Monty among them, giving a piggyback to a small girl with red hair.

Once more a rider fell, this time a frontliner. She sprawled in the dust and immediately curled up into a ball. A bay's hoof bounced against her helmet and a great gray stallion missed her by a mere hand. His job at the Mildred's wasn't worth this woman's life; Maximus cursed and jerked on Mandelbrot's reins, but the horse leaped right over the girl in a graceful leap as though she were no more than a hay bale. They hit the track running.

Willow was the next one he spotted. She had a bouquet of small flowers (weeds, probably; and knowing her, poisonous ones at that) and tossed them into the air as Maximus and Mandelbrot passed another jockey. Five horses remained in front of him, and only two or three behind. This wasn't good enough, this wasn't good enough! Maximus shook his head and spurred Mandelbrot on. The pinto gave a loud whinny and picked up the pace. The path was wide, but Maximus feared that if they moved any more to the right they would slam into tree branches.

They made another turn. Maximus braced himself for the inevitable slipping of riders, but every jockey stayed firm. For better or worse, it would seem Elliot hadn't had the time to unstrap any other saddles. Maximus leaned over Mandelbrot's neck. Smelled the sweat clinging to the stallion's neck. Tasted the horse's hair whipping across his face. Felt the powerful muscles rippling beneath his legs. Heard the blood and thunder in his ears.

And he ... Slipped.

For the briefest of moments, the horses disappeared, and Maximus stopped being Maximus.

" _He is coming!_ " screamed a voice, and it sounded like Willow. " _He has awakened up_!"

Everything was crimson, except that when Maximus raised his head he was met with a heavy black curtain sweeping their way like a dust storm, washing over everything in its path.

" _Bail out_!" Monty hollered, already taking off.

" _We can't be leavin' Chester_!" Dallas shouted back, and he held out his hand. But he didn't look like Dallas. He looked like...

...like Mike.

It took Maximus a few seconds to realize that the hand was being offered to him. " _Cabbage-brained punks_ ," he grumbled, allowing Dallas to pull him to his feet. " _Why, back in my da-_ Hey!"

Dallas scooped him up into a makeshift piggyback, and with a last glance back at the fog, he bolted. Their progress was slow. Maximus would have been slower on his own... but as he looked again over his shoulder and saw the great black clouds rushing closer, he knew that Dallas would be faster without him, too.

He shoved at Dallas's back, breaking the piggyback, and slammed against the spongy ground. Dallas stumbled and rolled, on his feet in an instant.

" _Go on, get lost already!_ " Maximus screamed to him, waving one hand. His vision was blurry, and everything smelled like gingerbread. " _Try to warn Mike! I'll see if I can hold that loathsome louse off!"_

He turned, arms outspread, to face the cold dark as it swallowed him up. " _You want this? You want me? Come and get it, Malice!_ "

Then the world snapped back into focus. Maximus gasped and jerked his head up, Mandelbrot whinnied and pushed past a startled gray-white. Up ahead, Dallas stood grinning near the next curve in the path, waving his fedora above his head and shouting something Maximus couldn't quite make out. As they turned, Mandelbrot veered right and cut through a tiny patch of grass off the path, and actually passed a black stallion by.

Only two horses stood between him and first place, and another lap to go. As they swung the bend, Maximus spotted several faces he recognized. The first was Staci, riding a close second place behind the lead white stallion on the back of her chestnut mare. The next was Elliot; he grinned like a fat tabby cat who'd gotten into the cream, his feet slotted among the slats of a low wooden fence. Mike stood on a park bench not too much farther down the path. He had one arm around Zoey's waist and the other hand up around his phone. A flash of light went off from the device as Maximus and Mandelbrot raced past.

Kids these days with all their newfangled techno-nonsense.

Onto the second lap now. The black stallion roughly pushed by, shoving Mandelbrot with its shoulder. The pinto whinnied in complaint, but the black ignored him.

"Dang punk kid," Maximus huffed. He kicked his heels against Mandelbrot's side. How much was too much? He thought the pinto might be flagging, and both the gray-white and a red bay shot by them. Maximus gritted his teeth and held to the right. He simply refused to give up his space on the inside track, even if they ran him off it. The red bay's tail came too close to Mandelbrot's face and the stallion snapped at it with his teeth. He missed by a centimeter. Clearly he wasn't fond of being so far back in the pack either.

Maximus urged him on.

They whipped past Monty, who raised a glass of some sparkling drink that Maximus hoped wasn't alcohol. Mandelbrot passed the red bay with a satisfied snort. They rounded the next bend in the track, thundering right on the heels of the gray-white just as Willow threw flowers at them. A dandelion settled briefly on Maximus's nose.

They were back in third place - a moment later, Dallas came into view up ahead. The white stallion was pulling a far lead, and Maximus doubted they'd reach him by the end of the race. He and Staci were racing shoulder to shoulder now, she on her swifter horse and he on the inside curve of the track. Maximus glanced at the girl briefly to see her knees clamped tightly to the chestnut's sweaty, heaving sides. The straps of her saddle, unclasped, flapped around her ankles.

Mandelbrot bumped against the chestnut's flank as they rounded the final bend. Staci yelped and began to tip inward towards him, and Maximus had only a second to think. He released the reins and lunged to the left, tackling Staci from her slipping saddle in the process. The two of them hit the ground with heavy thuds and tumbled into the grass. Maximus's shoulder made a bad cracking sound. Down the path, Mandelbrot and the chestnut whinnied and head-butted one another. Their reins were hopelessly tangled together now, and one by one the other racers passed them by. Their hooves kicked up heavy clouds of dust. Maximus coughed several times into his sleeve.

The cheers broke out. When the dust settled he saw a few faces staring back at him. Elliot looked irritated and amused at the same time. Mike seemed to think this was hilarious. Zoey shouted, "Someone, please, fetch a medic!" and her words were lost among the cheering crowd.

Maximus's arm was on fire. It was an effort to push himself up, and he stared glumly at his limp limb. It was broken, probably. Considering how old he was he wouldn't be surprised to learn if it would never heal.

Staci spluttered weakly and lifted her head. Blood trickled down one side of her scalp, and she wiped at it with one hand. A smear of red traced a river across her dirt-encrusted palm.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked him softly.

It took a few seconds for her question to register. Maximus was busy examining his burning arm.

"Your saddle was slipping inward," he said. His tongue tasted of dust and dirt and grass and blood. He sucked at his gums, then coughed into a closed hand. "You would have fallen in the path and been trampled by half a dozen horses charging around the bend."

"No," Staci said, "Why'd you _do_ that?"

Maximus frowned at her, not understanding. Hadn't he just explained his reasoning?

Staci didn't seem to be looking for an answer. She looked at herself, and then she laughed. And then, to Maximus's utter shock, she grabbed his good arm and kissed his cheek.

"Why are old people so awesome?"

It was then that the first-aid kit hit the dirt, and a pair of knees followed suit. To Maximus's utter shock, a second time, it was Trental.

"My two wannabe waiters," he said with a shake of his head. He bandaged a cut on Maximus's forehead that Maximus hadn't known he had while Maximus himself sat in silence.

"You?" he finally said when he could speak again, turning to look at Staci. She looked just as surprised.

"What, don't tell me _you're_ the saggy blobsack who's currently working at that diner - Mildred's Pizza and Deli? But... you're so _old_."

"'Saggy blobsack'?" Maximus repeated, narrowing his eyes Trental's way. Whatever had happened to respecting your elders? Kids these days, dagnabit.

Trental wisely didn't reply to this and instead moved on to the blood running down Staci's cheek.

"Maximus, girl I'm hiring to replace you; Staci, man I'm laying off to hire you." He dabbed at Staci's face with a cloth.

"You're firing someone? Him?" If Staci had been a puppy, her ears would have drooped as she said that. "I didn't... My sister and I... But he never said..."

"Oh, sure," mumbled Trental as he swiped again at her cheek. "Just blame the big boss, why don't you? Especially when he's working to keep that scratch from getting infected."

Staci took off her red rubber helmet, revealing short strands of cinnamon-colored hair, and looked over at Maximus. Then she smiled. Like him, dirt and blood stained her teeth, but her smile managed to warm him nonetheless.

"Old people are awesome," was what she said, thumping her fist against his own. "Yeah."


	3. Not Glad, Upset

" _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you ..._ "

When Mike first heard the words, he thought he was still dreaming. He lay in his bed with his eyes closed, his shoulders tense. But when the singing continued on, he sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Mom?" he asked as his vision began to clear. "I thought I heard..."

"Mike!"

His hand dropped away from his face. "Zoey?"

She laughed, and it took Mike a second to locate her voice. His mother stood smiling in the doorway with the laptop in hand, and the webcam was rolling. Zoey beamed and waved at him from miles away, and Mike grinned back at her.

"Zoey! Hey!"

She had her cherry-red hair down this morning, which was a gorgeous look for her (as was everything), but her fingers were flying fast as she twisted one side of it into a braid. Suddenly Mike was very aware of how much he looked like a banana in his bright golden pajamas. One side of his hair was flattened from where he'd slept on it funny. Did he still have that huge zit near his nose? And he hadn't even gotten the chance to shower this morning. Some way to greet one's amazing girlfriend.

Zoey gripped her braid in one fist as she finished her song and lay her palm against the screen as though she'd be able to touch him through it. "Happy birthday," she said once more with another laugh, and her brown eyes turned especially soft. "Oh, Mike, I really wish I could make it down to see you today, on your special eighteenth. You're finally an adult now, and I'm missing it, like a great girlfriend. This stupid vacation ... if only I'd thought-"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "Nah, you and your family've had your trip to Paris planned for years. Just enjoy yourself. I'll be all right." He grinned again, and in a corner of the screen he could make out the gap between his front teeth. It seemed so conspicuous, so ugly. Had he remembered to brush his teeth before he went to bed? Probably not. Was there pizza sauce staining his molars? Most likely, yeah.

"I'm just glad I got to see you at all," he finished. "Thanks, Zo. It means a lot to me."

"You're so sweet." Zoey gazed at him, then shook her head and snapped an elastic around her braid. "I really have to go - I convinced my dad to wait long enough for me to sing to you, but if I don't hurry then we're going to miss our flight."

She kissed her fingertips and blew on them, and he pretended to snatch her kiss out of the air and press it against his lips. And with that, she was gone.

"So." His mother shut the laptop and gently set it on his dresser. "I've got eggs and bacon waiting for you downstairs, and Gramma and Gramps will be coming over for cake and ice cream later tonight. What does my birthday boy want for lunch?"

Mike stretched his arms above his head. "Mmm ... I'm thinking maybe ... pasta."

Immediately a pang hit him in the chest. His gaze seemed to flicker and a prickle started in his forehead.

"Pasta?" Her eyebrows went up. "Your one day of the year to splurge, and you want _pasta_?"

"Well," he said with a forced laugh, "maybe not."

His mother sat down on the edge of his bed and took his hand in hers. Mike tried to avoid her eyes, but didn't last longer than three seconds.

"Mike, baby," she asked him gently, "Does ... does this have anything to do with Vito?"

"No, I ..."

"You told me that he was gone."

Mike shook his head, but not in denial to her statement. "No, no, he is. Force of habit, that's it. Heh heh heh ... Really, he is, and I'm okay. "

"It's prefectly fine if you _want_ to have spaghetti," she continued, raising her hand. "I just thought-"

"No! I ... I don't want it." Again Mike shook his head. He allowed his gaze to wander around the room, pausing briefly on the silver trophy he still kept near his nightstand, then on to the fedora on the top shelf of his closet. He was quiet for a few seconds too long; his mother shook him from his thoughts with a squeeze of her hand on his.

"Actually Mom ..."

He hesitated.

"Yes?"

"There is ... there is _somewhere_ that I'd like to go for lunch ..."

"Anywhere you want. It's your special eighteenth. I owe you this much."

Mike bit his tongue and started to rub his arm. He kept his gaze on the fedora, knowing that if he met his mother's eyes he'd lose his nerve. Looking back on it, he wasn't sure what made him do it. Perhaps he wouldn't if he'd been more awake. He would have seen that it was a stupid idea to bring these two pieces of his life together.

Perhaps he was trying to prove something. He wanted to show that he wasn't going to be afraid anymore now that he was older.

Or maybe he was trying to prove something not to himself, but to _them_. Maybe he just wanted to stand there with his hand in his mother's and his head held high, saying _This is what my life is like with you guys gone, and you don't know what you're missing. You'll_ never _know what you're missing._

Or perhaps, even though Zoey had seen them too, he just wanted to prove their existence to someone else. Someone who had dealt with them practically as long as he had, who really just needed proof spelled out to say _See? I told you, it's over. They're not going to hurt me anymore._

Really, it was a pretty stupid idea, no matter what the reasoning behind it was.

"Mildred's," he said at last.

"The diner over on Rosedale? You stop by there nearly every day after school."

"I know, I know ... I just... I've made friends with the workers there, and I really like it, and ..."

"But it's your special day." She smiled, hugged him tightly around the shoulders, and stood. "If it's Mildred's you want, it's Mildred's you get, because you're my special boy, and you're worth it."

Those words always made him smile. They made him want to throw open the front door, stand on the porch, and shout out to the whole world, _"Hey everybody out there! I'm worth it!"_

"Oh-" Mike untangled himself from his sheets and ran to catch his mother before she could head back down the stairs. "Mom, would you ..."

He realized how odd his request would be before he said it. He sucked air in through his teeth, whistling through his gap. But she was looking at him. No backing out now.

"Would you mind wearing your hat? You know, the..." He made a motion for the sweeping brim. "The pink one with the flower on it?"

His mother blinked at him. Like he had done, she shook her head without actually meaning no.

"Whatever you ask today, Mike."

Fingers crossed that they wouldn't be able to recognize her then.

The bacon was a bit overcooked, bordering on burned, but the eggs and sausages were absolutely delicious. If Mike hadn't been so absolutely incredibly star-defyingly lucky to find Zoey, he'd probably be having a breakdown right about now over how much he'd miss her familiar cooking if and when he decided to head into the world alone.

Two presents awaited him on the table, wrapped in perfect shimmery-blue paper and tied off with ribboned white bows. The third one, wrapped in red, was from Zoey. He was supposed to leave them until Gramma and Gramps arrived that evening, but his mother let him open hers after he'd put his plate in the dishwasher.

"Something special from your girlfriend, since she can't see you in person," she told him. "I'm sure she won't mind. She's a nice young woman, yes ... She's a better woman than me."

Mike held the soft present in his lap, studying it from different angles. He couldn't keep himself from grinning. This was a present from someone who loved him, to _him_. And _he_ was going to get to open it. There hadn't been too many presents growing up - Wasn't that right? Sure, they'd celebrated their birthday. Kurt usually kept from getting furious or drunk then. Sometimes he'd come up with a shiny toy truck to add to their (Er, Vito's) collection, and he'd ruffle their hair and pull whomever was Topside into a hug; Mike could remember hugging him back loads of times, even when his breath sometimes did smell a little bit like alcohol.

But now he'd get to open a _present_. Mike couldn't remember how long it had been since he had last torn into wrapping paper with his own fingers. He was pretty sure he never had, because Manitoba always got very excited by the prospect of having a mystery enclosed in a package like this and wanted to take over.

Before he had even finished such thoughts, Mike's mental shields went up. He sort of ... tensed the muscles in his brain, almost, ready to stand against the tingling sensation. The words ran through his head: _I am Mike, and this is my body. I am Mike, and this is my present. I am in charge. I wear the crown. You are staying locked away behind that solid door, and I have the only key._

There was no tingling sensation, and even though he hated those tingling sensations, it made Mike a little wistful. He ... No, "missed" wasn't exactly like the right term, because he didn't. Miss them, really, especially when he knew what had happened to them and that they were okay. It was more like ... he'd been promised something wonderful and his hopes had raised higher and higher, only to be dashed in one swift little swoop. That's what it had been like with his father, and he felt a little like that now.

Okay, so maybe he did miss them. The same way he'd miss his stuffed giraffe or the familiarity of his bedroom or his beloved aquarium tank in the kitchen. He missed the reassuring company of his alters; he just didn't appreciate their manners. Taking over someone's mind and body in the middle of a conversation, really. Such nerve.

"Mike?" His mother touched his elbow; he blinked and shook his head and went at the wrapping paper. He wanted to tear it off in great ribbons, but Zoey's wrapping had been perfect and so he unfolded each piece slowly and thoughtfully (or at the very least pretended to be thoughtful about it) and tried to save as much of the shiny red paper as he could. The package was soft and lumpy, and soon he saw why.

 _She sent me a shirt?_

He held the shirt up, puzzled. It didn't look like much, simply a plain green T-shirt, not much different from the ones he usually wore.

Then he heard his mother gasp and put one hand to her chest. "Oh, Mike ..."

He flipped the shirt over, and then he saw what she saw.

In the center of the shirt, done in white paint, was his own hand. Every wrinkle. Mike held his own hand to it in disbelief, but they were the same. How? He didn't remember ever having dipped his hands in paint and stamping them on this big green shirt.

But that wasn't all, because in white paint all around his own hand, there were other hands. Five of them. One small and heavily wrinkled, one strong and masculine, one thin and perfect, one with its fingers spread out to cover as much area as possible, like Monty had been trying to compensate for the small size of his palm by showing off his spidery fingers.

The last hand was an awkward one, and Mike could see the story behind it clearly. Elliot had fought against them, but they'd managed to stamp his hand down. His print didn't show fingers, only the dots where his fingertips had hit the shirt, like his hand had been curled upwards when they'd forced it down. Mike imagined that he must have been swearing up a storm, demanding to know why on earth and the world beyond they were making him do this for someone that he didn't even like.

He grinned, first at Zoey's gift and then at his mother. He yanked off the T-shirt he was already wearing and pulled the new one over his head.

"Well? How do I look?"

She hugged him, and soon she was whispering things into his ears like how she'd always loved him no matter what had happened, how proud she was of him, how she was sorry for everything she'd ever done, how Vito would have hated wearing that shirt, that sort of thing.

Not long after that she went to pick up the ice cream cake. Mike fed all his fish, worked some on his scrapbook, and then spent thirty minutes surfing the Internet and sending e-mails to his Total Drama friends - Cameron, Gwen, Staci, Cody, Sam, Sierra - before the phone rang inches from his hand. Mike didn't recognize the number, but he picked up anyway.

"Hello? Dunn residence, Mike speaking."

 _Please, not any more Mal fangirls. I don't want to deal with them, not today of all days._

"Are you still calling yourself by that name, Spencer? I thought I told you to drop the alter-ego act years ago."

Mike's blood rushed like an avalanche. "Spencer" was the name on his birth certificate. "Spencer" was written on all the medical forms that had started flooding in all those years ago.

"Spencer" was the original personality.

According to Chester, Spencer had been lost in the deep reaches of their unconscious mind where even they weren't supposed to go, burdened down by memories, hounded by long neuron-snakes and the splinters and his doubts and feelings of guilt and who knew what else. He wasn't supposed to exist anymore, or if he did then he'd been so far gone that he hadn't even gotten a body after the memory-wipe like all his shattered pieces had.

Mike himself was the largest piece of what remained of him, strictly speaking, after what had happened when their mind first split, once he'd accepted the crown and shut Spencer down for good. For all intents and purposes, he _was_ Spencer now. Supposedly his mother had never known (or cared, more accurately) that there were more differences to her little 'original' baby boy than a change of name. Of course not, with her automatic defense system triggering her to live in denial when things took a turn for the worst. They'd all been so confused when 'Spencer Prime' begun referring to himself as "Mike"...

They'd moved houses - heck, provinces - after the issue with Kurt and the police. Nobody knew him as Spencer anymore. Not except for his paternal grandparents sometimes and ...

 _Oh, no way._

"You did drop it, didn't you, Spencer?"

Mike swallowed hard. The receiver trembled in his fingers. More than ever, he wished for one of the other personalities to take over for him. Svetlana, Chester, Mal ... Literally anyone would do. Maybe he could fake it. Surely after all these years he could fake Vito's accent? He'd done it before. He'd done everyone's.

"Give an answer when I ask you a question, Little Tyke. Right now. I can hear every breath." His voice softened. "You aren't scared of me, are you, Spencer?"

"N-no, of course not ... Dad."

"Spencer!" Kurt laughed on the other side of the line, the noise coming through with a great sizzle of static. "I knew you were there all along - Didn't I tell ya he'd be there, Cass?"

Mike shot a glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to find his mother there to catch him. But he was alone. The phone was an old landline, still attached to the wall by a long spiral cord, and Mike went as far from the computer desk as it would allow him to go. He made it from the kitchen and just barely around the corner of the living room doorway. "Kurt- Uh, I mean, Dad, what are you doing? Don't we have a restraining order against you or something?"

"Aw, that ain't gonna stop me from catchin' up with my boy on his birthday. So how old are ya now, Spence? Sixteen? Twenty-two? Twelve?"

Honestly? Mike didn't know that himself. Today was his birthday. His first birthday since he'd been released from Spencer's overcrowded brain and made that head his own. Did that make him eighteen... or only fifteen? Who was supposed to be aging here; the old host's body, or the current owner's mind?

Mike sat down in the armchair, hugged a pillow to his chest with one hand, and stared at his reflection in the glass covering the fireplace. "Kurt- Dad- We're _really_ not supposed to be having this conversation. How did you even get our number?"

"Thunder? My voice doesn't- Does my voice sound like thunder, Cass? My voice doesn't- No, I'm here to talk about _you_ , Spence! You're ... sixteen now, are you? So I was thinkin' that maybe you and me could go down fishin' at the big ol' lake, just you'n me an' a couple a' fat wriggly worms, just like it used a' be when I went with my ol' pop."

"Fish- Kur- Dad, _no_! I don't want to go fishing! What? I thought you were in jail!"

"Oh, did you hear the news?" Kurt chuckled again. "Cassie's pregnant, yep. Pretty soon we'll have a li'l Spencer of our own runnin' around here. Gonna take him out fishin', I am."

Mike dropped the receiver. It hung on the armrest of his chair, then snapped backwards on its cord and smacked against the kitchen tile. For a second he was too stunned to move, and then he scrambled to find it again again.

"So I'll be outside Denny's in half an' hour just waitin' for my boy to show," Kurt was saying. "Got a nice li'l boat that we can take out, an' I'll bring two fishin'poles an' some san'wiches with me. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Kurt, are you drunk?"

A note of his old anger crept back into his voice when he said, "That sounds nice, doesn't it Spencer? You say, _Thank you, Daddy_."

"That... that sounds... great, Daddy ... Thanks a lot. I'm really excited. S-s-see you later."

"Half an' hour now. Denny's. Don't keep me waiting. Say good-bye to Spencie, Cass!"

There was a _click_ , and the line cut out. Mike stayed there in the armchair, cradling the phone and gazing through the kitchen doorway at his aquarium, until he heard the garage door rumbling open, and he hurried to slam the receiver back on its hook. He wasn't planning to go fishing, and he didn't tell his mother about the call. Maybe some other time, but not today.

He slid away the thoughts of his old tormentor as his mom came in with the cake - chocolate with mint ice cream, of course - and then it was time for lunch. His mother had on her pink flower hat and a pale blue blouse, simple but nice, and Mike hovered in front of his mirror trying to decide what to wear.

In the end, he stuck with his green birthday shirt and pulled on his golden jacket and a simple pair of black slacks. He even ran a comb through his hair a couple of times. Maybe it was just lunch, but he went down to Mildred's a lot. For a special occasion like this one, he wanted to show off.

The weather felt pleasant out, but it was overcast and dark. A faint drizzle began, then trickled off. They could have driven to Rosedale, but Mike chose to walk. The diner wasn't far, only twenty minutes or so, and he so rarely got to spend time alone with his mother like this. She worked too much these days. In the evening she often went on dates. But this, just being with her ... It was nice. Really nice.

Two meters from the door, Mike hesitated. He could see them inside. "Monty" was working double-time to keep the floors clean and bring out food while "Maximus" did his best to help, still nursing the arm he'd broken in the horse race last week. "Dallas" was out there to help cover, wiping down the tables with a speed that the Tasmanian Devil from Goony Loons would have envied.

None of them had noticed him yet. It wasn't too late to tell his mother he'd like to go somewhere else.

But, like an absolute idiot, he didn't turn away. He put his hand on the door and pulled it open for his mother. As one, Monty, Maximus, and Dallas all jerked their heads up and stared his way with wide eyes. From the serving window at the back of the diner, Mike saw a flash of silky black hair that meant he'd snagged Willow's attention too.

Monty tossed a balled-up piece of paper to her through the window. Ignoring the other diner patrons, he trotted over to Mike and his mother as they sat down near the middle of the place, behind a screen of leafy plants. "Yo-" he began, but caught himself quickly and turned his greeting into a cough. "Ah... H-hello. Fine seein' you out here so early, Mike. And on a Saturday, too. You know how much we love surprises."

His accent was still vaguely Italian, which Mike never failed to find amusing. As Monty asked them for their orders through tight lips, Mike absentmindedly slipped his gold jacket onto the back of his chair. Monty stumbled on a word and blinked at the handprint T-shirt, obviously recognizing it, then returned to his scripted welcome. That was one puzzle solved, then.

Mike requested a large cheeseburger and fries with a Sprite on the side, which made his mother raise her eyebrows at him and just smile that fond smile of hers. She asked for tea with a bit of lemon, a basket of breadsticks to share, and a sandwich half turkey and half ham. Monty wrote this down, folded the order into a paper plane against his thigh with practiced ease, and sent it sailing through the serving window from across the diner in a quick flick. Mike clapped politely for him, but Monty had already swept on to gather the next order like he'd been doing it all his life. Mike supposed he had.

Maximus, though, stopped by their table a minute or two later to fill their water glasses and clear his throat.

"A quick word, Mike, if you would."

"Oh... Sure." He smiled his mother's way and stood. "It's nothing - I'll be quick."

Maximus led him back around the screen of plants towards the front windows, out of his mother's sight, and then rounded on him.

"Dagnabit - Don't tell me that's your _mother_."

Mike didn't know what to say. "Uh, kind of. Basically, yes...?"

Immediately Maximus's fingers were clamped around the bridge of his nose. He tilted back his head and shook it at the ceiling, his one visible eye squeezed shut. A wrinkle behind his eyepatch suggesting that the other, if he had another, might be doing the same.

"What's wrong?" A knot of unease began to grow inside his stomach. Maximus dropped his hand.

"It's Elliot. You don't know him like I do, young pippy scamp-"

"I beg to differ."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Go on."

Maximus shook his head and held up his good hand about a foot apart from his casted one. "He... he doesn't... Sometimes when he has his Backflashes, he gasps out..." After a few seconds his shoulders slumped. "Aw, I don't know what I'm trying to say. It's just ... Bringing her here ... That was not your smartest lightbulb moment, Mike. Just a very bad idea. Kids these days... What do they teach you in school?"

Maximus couldn't seem to give him any solid information, so Mike went back to his seat. He talked with his mother a few minutes about school, about the possibility of getting a job here (Trental had hinted more than a few times that he was hiring, which would be so awesome), funny stories from his time on Total Drama, and all the inconsistencies the producers had had when designing what it looked like inside his brain to what he himself actually saw when he visited the quote-unquote Mindrealm.

She shook her head and took a sip from her water glass. "Even after all these years, it still sounds so strange hearing you say it. Like it all belongs in a science fiction novel."

"Sometimes I forget that," he said with a laugh. "I still have a hard time imagining what it must be like for normal people..."

He winced when he said the 'n' word, normal, and his mother seemed to catch it. She clicked her glass to the table and looked about to say something, but all of a sudden there was a tremendous crash from across the diner.

Mike glanced over to see a scrawny boy a few years younger than him (no matter which way you did your math now) standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He too had brushed his hair and was wearing slacks just like Mike, but the similarities faded away there, because he wore a white button-up shirt and had skin so pale that he looked a little ghostly. He stood there with his hands upturned as though he'd been holding a tray a second earlier; the remains of food and plates were scattered on the ground near his feet.

"Elliot?" Mike heard the word above the gentle chatter in the diner, saw Dallas lay a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon Ellie-o, what's wrong? You still 'member Mike, don't you? It's just Mike."

Elliot's mouth moved, but it seemed that no sound came out. If it had then he had whispered it. It really didn't matter - Mike could read the word plainly on his lips.

"Mother..."

"Is something wrong with him, do you think?" his mother asked, following his gaze. On their side of the diner Dallas did the same to Elliot's eyes, and they were all peering at each other. Then Elliot was ushered back into the kitchen to work on preparing the food with Willow once more, and suddenly Trental was there shouting and waving his arms around a whole lot and ordering Monty to clean up the mess. Monty, who hadn't even been near the mess when it occurred, seemed insulted by this and started to snap back, but Dallas elbowed him so roughly in the side that he probably cracked a few ribs, and so Monty did what he was asked with a tight seething between his teeth.

"Mom..." The words had been on the tip of Mike's tongue ever since that morning and all throughout their walk, but he'd kept losing his courage to say them. "I... I have something I want to tell you."

His mother didn't appear to hear him. She kept her narrowed eyes on Dallas as he went back to work scrubbing tables. Maximus came over and whispered something in his ear, and suddenly she flashed up to her feet.

"Mom?"

"It can't be," she breathed. Her voice turned strangled at the end. She stared a moment longer, and then she jerked her head back around. Her eyes went huge and bright. "Mike-"

"Mom, it's..."

She was shaking, and sooner or later she'd burst into tears if she was so much as brushed by a floating speck of dust. "You said they were gone. Gone forever, that's what you told me. So then why are they here? _How_ are they here? How is that even possible?"

"I ... I don't know, Mom."

They had caught some attention with their conversation. The other diner patrons mostly ignored them, but Dallas was frowning their way again. Monty held his mop above his bucket, not moving and not blinking.

"It is them, isn't it?" she went on. "Smith, Vito-"

"Mom!"

His voice was louder than he'd meant it to be, but he had to cut her off before she said something he couldn't correct. He looked nervously in the direction of his once-personalities. Both of them had a hand against their temples and were staring at him.

"Mom," he said again, his voice softer this time. "They don't remember any of that."

"They don't...?"

"Any of it. And you can't tell them." Another, more-anxious glance this time. And Maximus was eyeing them too now. Dallas had inched a table's-length nearer. He lowered his voice again. "For all they know, they woke up in Allenmere Park out there with no memory of who they were or where they'd come from."

His mother sat down slowly. She was staring as well, staring at Mike like he'd sprouted bonsai trees on each shoulder.

"You knew all of this," she said, "didn't you? That's why you come here so often. To see them. That they're somehow _real_."

It was then that the door to the kitchen eased open again. Elliot hopped over Monty's abandoned bucket and crossed the diner with quick steps, ignoring Dallas's every attempt to pull the tray from him.

"Enjoy your meal," he said as he dropped the food down. Mike bobbed his head in thanks, but Elliot didn't go away. He hovered around their table, shifting his gaze between Mike and his mother as though he'd heard every word from the kitchen and tracing triangles on the back of his wrist with his pinkie. Mike took a sip of his water and raised his eyebrows at Elliot, trying to hint for him to leave. Elliot stared at his - their - Spencer's mother a few seconds more, then shook his head and drifted off again. Mike gnawed uneasily on a breadstick. It was a very long time before either of them spoke again.

"I don't want you coming back here anymore, Mike," his mother said at last, picking up a triangle of her sandwich. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"But Mom, they never do anything to hurt me..."

She jerked her head towards the kitchen door. "I'm a lot of bad things, Mike, but I'm not blind anymore. I know exactly who that was. You want me to believe that _he'd_ never hurt you? You expect me to be okay with sending my son to see a murderer every day?"

"A murd'rer?" echoed a voice, and then there came a gasp and a sound of hands slapping over a face. But the damage was done. As Mike's mother turned around in her chair, Mike narrowed his eyes.

"Monty," he said, "You do realize that I can see you, hopefully?"

First, nothing. Then Monty slunk out from behind the great potted plant, brushing at the cuff of his sleeve.

"Nice, healthy tree," he muttered under his breath. He was still holding his mop in one hand, and he stared straight at Mike. He pointed with the handle at the big ceramic pot and said again, "Healthy tree. Nice, big, healthy tree, that one."

Mike put his hands to his face. " _Monty..._ "

"Ayo." Monty slammed his mop against the tile with a sloppy _squish_. "Geezy Louisiana, ya can't tell me ya di'n't expect least one of us ta creep up eavesdroppin' on ya, not when we heard all that stuff ya were sayin' 'bout havin' known us before." He waved one hand as he continued his rant with, "Ya don't know what it's like for us, all this not knowin' stuff. Ya don't know about our nightmares."

Mike's fingernails shredded a corner of his napkin and scratched against the tabletop. A couple at the neighboring table glanced over at them in amusement. Or concern. Even after all these years, it was still hard to tell the difference.

Monty whipped around and stalked away; Mike opened his mouth to say something else, but a high yelp and a shout echoed across the diner. Instantly half the patrons were standing, but there wasn't much they could do. The lights went out.

It was surprising how dark it was. They sat behind the row of plants that divided them from the front windows, where the clouds were still heavy and a light rain had begun to fall. Everything was black and gray. Mike drummed his fingers on the lip of the breadstick basket, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

His mother screamed.

"Mom?" Mike jolted to his feet and reached out towards her, but his hand closed on nothingness. There were shuffle noises and thumping. People were yelping. Mike couldn't even hear his own thoughts.

A hand landed on his elbow.

"Ack-!" he began, but he was quickly shushed.

"Is only Villow," she said, repeating the statement until he'd calmed down.

"Willow?" Mike pushed his fingers through his hair. "What happened?"

"Elliot vas playing vith ze fuse box. I am not knowing-"

"My mom!"

" _Kak_?" She let go of his arm.

Mike scrubbed furiously at his face, and when he stopped he found that his eyes had finished adjusting to the darkness. He could plainly see that the seat across from him was empty.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Mike nearly leapt from his shoes. Geez, that whole thing about his fellow personalities not having manners had sure carried over into their physical forms.

It was Dallas, and his voice was grim. "Ellie shot out the front door, mate."

People continued to protest and argue and complain and squeal around him, but now their cries were fewer and farther between. Mike swayed on his feet, blinked, and then slowly sat back down in his chair.

"He... ran away? Are you sure? But that's not possible, is it? That whole..." Mike made a waving motion beside his head that he wasn't sure Dallas could see, but apparently he could, because he understood what Mike meant.

"Nah mate, he can't've gone far. Not in such a short amount a' time an' not with that Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome stuff keepin' him on a leash, eh? He'll come back in a minute. He always does. I just came to tell ya not to panic since you can't sense him like we usually can, an' I wanted ta ask y'about what Monty-"

"We have to find him. He took my mom."

Dallas seemed genuinely surprised to hear this. "Now, why in tarnation would he do a thing like that?"

Mike stood, at a loss for an answer. The words were frozen on his lips. He couldn't exactly tell them the _truth..._

"Mike?" Willow slitted her eyes. "Vhat is it you are not telling to us?"

"I... I..." Mike cupped a hand around his mouth, trying hard to think. At long last he took in a breath and stammered, "So like, he was kinda created to protect my mother, y'know?"

" _What_?" the two of them shouted together; automatically, Mike threw his hands up to defend himself.

"Look, it's way too complicated, and I definitely don't have time to explain. I probably won't ever have time to explain- I'm not sure I even understand it myself, and I sure as heck don't know how it happened. The point is, a thirteen-year-old boy dressed like a waiter just kidnapped my mom, and that's definitely going to attract some attention. We have to find Mal before the cops do and try to take him away and all that Spatial-whatsit stuff kicks in again and drops you all to your knees."

"Did you just say-?" Dallas began, but Mike didn't give him time to finish.

"Get the others to pitch in. All you guys have some sort of internal compass or something basically like that, right?"

"Well, yeah," he fumbled, "Sorta, and 'specially me, being Seeker and all, but..."

Mike bounced impatiently on his toes. "But what?"

It was Willow who answered, pointing at him. "It is not vorking very vell anymore vhen you are come too near. Is like magnet, you. Is much harder to concentrate on finding anyone vhen you are standing around pulling us all towards you instead."

"Sorry, mate. I'm toast. Count yourself lucky I'm aware of myself enough ta even talk to ya this close. And if ya had yourself a mind-map color like the rest of us, it'd be all I could see right now."

"Villow being much ze same, only less so as she is being Dodger and not Seeker."

Mike wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted. He settled on frustrated. "Okay," he said, "Okay, I get it. That's fine. Apart, you guys don't have as strong of a pull as if you were all together, when your combined spirits would probably equal... Yes, that almost makes sense. I'll buy it."

Dallas cocked his head. "Eh?"

"Never mind. Get the others into a search party. I'll head out on my own. How far can he go without getting sick?"

They hesitated a little too long for Mike's liking.

"Okay, _now_ what?"

Again, Willow gestured to his chest with an upturned palm. "Ze distance does increase vhen you are close too. A dozen meters far'zher, twice as far... Ve are not for sure knowing yet. Ve have not been given many opportunities to have tried."

Of course. Of. Freaking. Course.

"Fine, search everywhere, then. You should start in the kitchen just in case; he could have circled back and found a hiding spot, and you guys know it better than I do. Like you said, he can't have gotten too far." Mike waved good-bye and jogged off.

It was raining when he stepped outside. The drops were light and fresh, but annoying enough to make Mike wish he hadn't left his jacket back on his chair. He stood there, listening like a retriever tracking ducks. He didn't have the compass-like senses that his alters did, but how difficult could it be to track down a potentially psychotic teenage runaway who had a grown woman for a hostage?

Come to think of it, was Elliot even strong enough to drag her away?

Mike thought he heard a noise to his left. He found a short alley with a dumpster and a back door that led into the kitchen, but no Elliot in sight.

"Okay," he told himself again, "Okay... What would _Mal_ do with a hostage?"

Mike didn't like voicing such thoughts. He wanted to believe that the alters had gotten a fresh start after the mind-wipe, but there was always the possibility that his mother had been right. Maybe Mal was still Mal. Maybe he would always have more Mal parts than Elliot parts inside of him.

Either way, the question was a difficult one to answer, because Mike had never once watched the way Mal had acted around their - his! - mother. He'd seen the aftereffects, of course. Mal had very little sense of tact. He didn't quite grasp diplomacy and instead tried to solve everything in the quickest way possible, which was normally by abusing the element of surprise, and turning to physical violence if it really, really came down to it. Once, his uncle Richard had taken his mother's hand at his wedding reception, and Mal had made an appearance before Mike had the chance to react. That was the least violent of all the instances he knew... Once he had sliced the fingers off a man just for being _near_ his mother.

Okay, so it had been in a dark alley and the man _had_ been a mugger, but that was beside the point. Point being, if Mike wanted to find Elliot then he needed to think like Mal.

Elliot loved his mother. Wasn't like he had a choice. That much Mike knew. What else was there?

He liked gingerbread. Spencer had practically founded him on that and the triangle affinity. Did any of the places around here sell gingerbread? What about music? He did seem to like music. Zoey liked music too, pop and classical in particular.

Stop it. Now was not the time to coo over his girlfriend, as adorable as she was. He had to focus.

Despite his birth name, Mal's driving force hadn't been envy nearly so much as it had been jealousy... and a deep-seeded desire to offer protection to a loved one in need. In the early days he had grabbed control when he felt that their - his - mother was being threatened. It didn't matter who was around; he couldn't stand anyone who got near her. No one except for him. Them.

But he didn't live up in Mike's forehead anymore.

So that might mean...

Mike had picked up a few of Svetlana's reflexes once the rest of her had been catapulted into her new body. He spun around and threw his arms up just in time to catch the broken gutter pipe that was coming down on his head.

Elliot looked absolutely shocked to find Mike resisting him, but not for long. He wrenched the pipe away and back over his head, nearly overbalancing in the process, and swung it low towards Mike's knees. He leaped backwards too slow, and a red line of blood sliced through his pants and across his lower leg.

"Elliot!" he shouted. "Elliot, stop it! What are you doing?"

No answer. Mike had never seen so much fury in the teen's blue eyes, though he'd known him for weeks now. Elliot scampered a few steps away, hesitated briefly, then charged Mike again. Mike dodged to the left and put out a foot, Vito's old instincts kicking in. Elliot tumbled to the ground.

"Elliot, come on! What even?"

Still, no reply. Elliot snatched up his pipe and sprang back to his feet. Dust and grime was smeared across his face. Some of it must have gotten into his eyes, because they were burning wet and red.

"Elliot, what do you think you can do with her? You can't" - he ducked a pipe swing with a fumbled roll - "take her anywhere. She can't stay with you here. Are you nuts?"

"I don't _care_! Just _get out_ of here! Get out of my way!" Another swing. "Get out of my life! You ruin _everything_!" A third. "You _always_ ruin everything! That red-haired girl comes around because of _you_! Max broke his arm because of _you_! I have horrible _nightmares_ because of _you_! I live like I'm in _Hell_ every stupid day because of _you_!"

Mike dodged again, without much effort. Still, with Elliot full of rage Mike wasn't sure if he could take him down head-on, even pulling out his switchblade and drawing on Vito's instincts. There was one other thing he _could_ try ... it had worked once before. He threw all the strength he had into the name.

" _Malice_! Stop it!"

Elliot froze mid-charge, stared at him, then collapsed to his knees as though he'd dropped from a helicopter without a parachute. He didn't seem to be in pain. He just looked... puzzled and stunned, like his brainwaves had been scrambled by interference and he could no longer move even if he wanted to. Mike doubted that it would last any longer this time than the parking lot incident with Monty. He kicked the pipe well away, then crouched down in front of the little teen who had once been Mal.

"Elliot," he said, "I'll take care of her. I promise."

Elliot looked at him with unseeing eyes. Slowly, very slowly, he reached up one knuckle and rubbed his forehead.

"No you won't... because I remember. I remember... something. I know I do. I don't know what I remember, but I know it's important."

"You remember the things Kurt did to her, way back before your... Maximus called it 'Aftershock'? But I'm not like that. And you know it."

Elliot said nothing, brows pressed together and head drooped, so Mike went on.

"I can show you. You could all come home with me. None of you have a place to stay. We don't make a lot of money, but with you guys and my mom working together, maybe we could manage to-"

"No... "

The word was soft ... and tired, but said through a curled smile. It slipped off again. Elliot's gaze sharpened as he blinked.

"I wouldn't want to impose."

He examined Mike as he slowly drew in his legs and even more slowly stood up. His shoulders raised themselves to his ears, and he folded his hands in front of him as though tucking them away into the pockets of his favorite green sweatshirt. He tilted his head, still looking a hint scrambled, a hint confused.

"... I found something I remember now. You want to hear it? Good, because I'm going to tell you anyway, see if your eyes dart and you lie and deny recognizing anything. I'm somewhere with lots of people and cars and suitcases and big gray birds, and I'm hugging her good-bye, but I can't feel my arms or legs. And _she's_ pulling away from me. And she just leaves after that, and I'm supposed to go into the building alone."

Elliot pressed one hand to his eye as he started to walk forward. Mike slid to the side, but Elliot didn't seem to be particularly interested in him anymore, now that he'd proven he'd fight back if provoked, and would probably win. They both knew he would win if muscle was all it came down to.

"And in this memory, I don't see you anywhere, even though I can hear your voice. It's so obnoxious. It always was, even back then, apparently. Whenever 'then' was. I think I'm imagining it, because it's just bouncing around there in my head. A lot of my memories are like that, actually, with me acting like I can't... Dearie me, good gracious. Why am I outside? I should be in the kitchen, you know, doing the only thing I'm appreciated for these days."

Mike folded his arms. He stepped after Elliot, who had already pushed past him, nonchalant as a sheep, and headed towards the kitchen door.

"Uh-huh. So, why did you-?"

"Oh, it shouldn't really matter now, toots," he tossed back. "It would seem I just got tricked into believing I was worth something, and that I could actually do something - change something - to make my life better. What a fool I am! I took a gamble, but I can see now that it won't pay off in the long run. None of them ever pay off. I don't know why I thought this one would be any different."

He rested his hand on the door handle. A very tiny smirk came over his face again. "Aw, shoot, it seems I've told another pretty lie. To be quite frank with you, I don't think any of that was exactly what I was doing. It was just an impulse when I saw her, not really any conscious decision. Sometimes I surprise even myself. I ought to make 'Unpredictable' my middle name. Does it even matter why? I did it, I'm calling quits now that my clever brain's fully caught up to the rest of me and wondering whatever crawled into my head to make me... _jump_ like that, so what does it matter after the fact? Call it a strike of inspiration. Déjà vu, some sort of mental trigger, et cetera, et cetera."

"Well yeah, my question wasn't so much why you flipped out when you finally saw her again - I already know you're supposed to be the Mug- Er, uh... I-I thought you said you remembered loving her. Isn't that at least part of why you tried to take over way back when? So that you could always be with her and protect her?"

Elliot continued to clutch the door handle. He kept his slight smirk, tilting his head the other way.

"Nope, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, sugartreat. The only thing I want to take over is Dallas's place on the Employee of the Month wall."

"You don't mean that... You remember, don't you? You got the memory from the airport, when you said your good-bye for the last time."

He shrugged with squared-up shoulders. "She's in here, in the back freezer. I'm sure Dallas already found her - he's awfully good at hide and seek, and just being nosy in general. If you think you love her, and being the little angel that you are, I'm sure you'll do the clever thing and never bring her back here again. Aw, so sad for poor Elliot. Though you'd be doing me a favor, sweetheart, even though it would simply break my fragile wittle heart. Just seeing her face makes the inside of my head burn like acid, and I don't particularly want to have any more hurt in my life if it can be avoided, y'know?"

The door squeaked on rusty hinges as Elliot yanked it open.

"Hey, sometimes the memories just get too painful for little old me to handle, and you have to make a split somewhere. I suppose it's something that _you_ , Golden Boy, couldn't understand."


	4. Not Dumb, Stupid

It had been exactly forty-seven seconds since the last time Monty had been hit in the head with a kiwi.

He knew this because said kiwi had bounced off his head and hit the clock on the wall. Said clock had then fallen in a shattering of wood and gears, and as Monty scrambled to fix it he counted every passing second in his head.

 _Forty-eight, forty-nine..._

There was a clatter on the far side of the diner, followed by a wail. "Clean-up over at table six," grunted Maximus as he passed, his arms piled high with dirty dishes.

"Yeah, yeah, just a sec," Monty muttered back. He didn't take his eyes from the clock. His fingers flew even faster over the gears - This small one fit on the peg, but it didn't turn the next disc in line.

 _Fifty-six, fifty-seven..._

From the serving window about five meters away, Willow rang her bell and called, "I am having order for ze ninth table now!"

Through a tray in his mouth, Maximus pled for Monty to get it.

"Give me one second, Pops!"

 _Sixty-three, sixty-four..._ He was missing one gear. Monty searched beneath his knees and among the few leaves that had been yanked off the nearest potted tree.

 _Sixty-seven, sixty-eight..._

"There's not enough salt on my fries," whined a girl at the table on his left.

"And my soup is cold."

"Mom, I spilled my juice!"

"This sandwich tastes yucky."

The brat with the red shirt hit Monty with another kiwi.

Willow's bell came a second time. "Monty? Maxi?"

Monty risked the slightest glance away from his work to see Maximus weaving carefully between tables where chairs had been pushed far out. His right arm was no longer in a cast, but it must have still been bothering him. He was leaning far to one side. His legs weren't spread far enough apart for good balance.

 _Eighty-four, eighty-five..._

Maximus again, over his shoulder: "You get that mess around table six yet, Monty?"

"Workin' on it!"

"Here is ze food for table twelve now. Monty!"

 _Ninety-two, ninety three..._

Someone stood up abruptly from their table, shoving their seat back right into Maximus. He stumbled and fell to the ground. Monty had missed the sight itself, but when he heard the crash and the stammered apology, he knew exactly what had happened.

 _Ninety-eight, ninety-nine..._

Monty's fingers closed around the last gear. He snapped it on its peg and the gears immediately began to whirr. Monty spun the dial around to set the clock exactly one hundred and two seconds past its current time, replaced the cover, and hung the clock back on the wall.

" _Monty_!"

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" Monty dodged a last kiwi and hurried to the back of the diner, brushing dust from his suit as he went. "Geez Twinkletoes, don't getcha tendons in a twist."

Willow scowled at him through the server window. She clutched a rubber spatula tight in her fist. "You certainly vere taking your sveet time vith zhat."

Monty snatched both trays from her and hurried off without bothering to answer. He had to take cautious steps around Maximus, who was gathering up his plastic trays and large pieces of broken glass alongside the patron who had so clumsily scattered them.

"Is table six clean _yet_?"

Monty gritted his teeth. "Not yet, Pops." Then to the girl sitting at table nine, "Here ya go: Order a' soup and sandwich with a basket of chips on the side an' a scoop a' warm baked beans wrapped in a tortilla, yo."

She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "Hey, this is _not_ what I ordered."

Her voice was vaguely familiar somehow. Monty took a second look at her. She had a thin figure and lightly brown skin with dark eyes to match. Light brown hair framed a freckled face. She was Hispanic, maybe, which Monty found odd seeing as they were all the way up here in Canada. Surely he would have remembered a girl like that.

 _Could she be someone from... from_ before _the memory-wipin' deal?_

He was brought out of his thoughts by the girl's impatient tone and snapping fingers in his face. "Hey, my eyes are up _here_ , numbskull."

"Numbskull? Ayo, don't you-"

"Monty! Table six is waiting, ya cabbage head!"

Monty bit back his words and loaded his tray with the wrongly-delivered food. The girl nagged him about this the whole time, something about how she'd be sure to complain about his services, but he wasn't really listening. Monty left her with the second tray and delivered the first to an elderly lady sitting alone in the opposite corner of the diner.

"Here's your... food, Miss."

It was the sight of her - The wrinkles, the gray hair and all - that caught him off guard. Monty looked again at the tortilla and chips on the tray. Wasn't this table twelve?

She may have been old, but the elderly lady didn't seem to have lost her eyesight. She beamed at Monty and pinched his cheek between her sharp nails when he strayed too close.

"Why, aren't you just the _cutest_?"

For a split-second, Monty forgot where he was. His eyes went blurry with red and his response was automatic.

"Yeah, well, you'd better get used to it, if ya know what I mean."

The grin he got for that was full of bright white and very real teeth.

" _Monty_!"

Monty about flipped out of his suit at the sound of his name. He peeled the elderly woman's fingers from his face, stammered out a "Well, uh, thank you kindly" and "Enjoy your food", and hurried off to grab his bucket and mop from the corner near Trental's office. Maximus was over there too, carrying his broken dishes. He scowled when Monty scampered up. For someone with only one eye, he could certainly give a mean evil glare.

"And just what were _you_ doing? Flirting with an old lady?"

"No," Monty said defensively. "She started it, I was just-"

"Darn kids these days, 'specially the hormone-loaded teenagers." Maximus jerked his head. "Table six - Get going, dagnabit!"

"Order for table seven!"

Monty snatched his cleaning supplies with a grumble and stalked away. He didn't get far before Maximus shouted after him, "Once you've finished, brush over that place where I dropped all the darn glass, would you?"

"Sure Pops. Why not?"

The family at table six didn't look happy to see him. The mother was bouncing a wailing child on her knee, shushing him as he clung to her thumbs with chubby fingers. The father was trying keep his daughter from stabbing her brother with a fork. There was a mess of syrup and lemonade beneath the table. Monty wrinkled his nose as he dipped his mop in the bucket. The water was a dusky brown-gray, and became even darker once a bit of the syrup had been mixed in.

A very little bit, really, since despite his best efforts Monty found most of the syrup still stuck to the ground.

"Too bad you didn't get on that right after it spilled," said the father, watching him with a narrow gaze.

"Too bad-"

The father raised one eyebrow.

 _Too bad you didn't have control over your child,_ Monty finished in his head. _I won't ever have children. They're messy and rude and fragile and wet and needy and they give me the creeps._

Ropey strands of his mop stuck to the floor when he pulled it away, but Monty pretended not to notice. He'd done his job - The tiles were dark and covered with scratches anyway. No one would notice another stain in this dump. He stabbed the mop back in the bucket and headed for the middle of the diner. The patron who had broken Maximus's plates was standing nearby, warning everyone away from the shards of glass.

"You're using a mop?" he asked as Monty approached.

"Yeah... What, ya see a rake in my hand or somethin'?"

The man stepped back with a ducked head and a murmured apology, so Monty set to work brushing the glass splinters into a small heap. He'd only just started when Dallas appeared, a basket of rolls in one hand and a wet rag in the other. His hat was hanging crookedly on his head and there was a wet patch all down his shoulder.

"Order up for tables seven and eight," he said, and hurried to join Maximus in clearing off table fourteen.

 _Order this, clean up that ... Seems that's all I'm good for 'round here._

Monty's fingernails sunk into the handle of his mop as he swished it back and forth across the ground.

 _Look at me, bein' pushed around by some ol' geezer and a skinny little broad. Not to mention the Kentucky Jones wannabe and the snotty-nosed kid who thinks he's a lot bigger than he actually is._

Dishes clattered in the kitchen. Monty heard Willow shriek. The bell at the window clanged as Elliot beat against it with a wooden spoon and announced that tables seven and eight were still waiting for service.

It took every millimeter of self-control Monty had not to hurl a barrage of well-deserved swears his way. Not in front of the kiddies - Trental had already threatened to throw him out for his "sailor's mouth".

"Ay, to the deepest flamin' pit a' heck with ya, Ellie - I'll get ta it when I freakin' get ta it!"

Monty was feeling rather proud of his censorship, but it didn't stop one nearby mother from wincing and a second from shooting him an icy glare. Mike's hot girlfriend - Zia or whatever - looked at him with a face of pure disappointment. Teeth grinding, Monty lowered his gaze and found his fingers quivering around the mop.

 _Whoa, keep a handle on it, lugnut. Dal n' Willow'll kill ya if you get us all fired. Then we'll all hafta go an' live with Mike and his creepy ol' mum, that's what. Is that what you want?_

Monty struggled to remind himself that Dallas spent three hours every evening doing nothing but scrubbing dishes, and Elliot and Willow almost never left the kitchen. They cooked and mixed and boiled and baked all day. And then Maximus was old; he had a bad back, an injured wrist, and only one eye. They all poured blood and sweat and tears into this job.

He swept the mop beneath a chair to gather the last of the glass shards. _Maybe you got saddled with cleanin' duty, Mont, but we_ all _work ourselves ta the bone for this place._

An orange rolled across the floor just in front of him. The baby over at table two dropped face-first into a bowl of spaghetti and started to sob.

 _Snotty... bratty... weepy..._ He shook his head, flexed his fingers. Every hair on his arms was trembling now, and his teeth were sunk so hard in his tongue that Monty swore he could taste blood.

 _You's nearly finished, Mont. It's gotta be almost five by now._

Monty looked up at his precious clock just in time to see a kiwi hit its fragile glass face. The intricately-carved wood had taken one fall too many now. When it crashed to the ground it shattered into half a dozen pieces.

That was it.

A yell burst out of his chest before he could control himself. Monty raised his mop, seriously considering its usefulness as a weapon, but the child's parents reacted faster. The father grabbed the kiwi-thrower from his chair - he'd been standing on it - while the mother glared in Monty's direction with all the ferocity of a mother salmon doing salmon things. Since he couldn't very well attack the bratty child now, Monty dropped the mop and threw his hands into the air.

"I'm done," he announced to Elliot and Willow in the kitchen. He slammed what was left of the clock on the counter and stood back with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "The Mont. Quits."

Elliot cracked an egg over the frying pan, tossed away the shells, and didn't even look up. "Didn't change anything when I did it - Try again, copycat."

Monty shook his head. "Unlike _you_ , Scaly Feet, I actually mean it. I'm gettin' outta here - Just see if I don't."

"I anticipate tomorrow to be a winter wonderland, then."

Willow passed a bowl of soup and a piece of garlic bread to Dallas through the serving window. "Monty-"

"No." He threw up one hand and turned his face away. "I don't wanna listen a' any of it. My mind's made up. I'm sick and tired of not gettin' any a' the respect I deserve."

Elliot pricked up his ears. "You want me to treat you the way you deserve?"

Monty whipped back around, finger pointed. "Don't you dare-"

A mushy kiwi smacked between his eyes. Monty howled in rage and lunged forward, tackling Elliot to the ground in a heap of arms and legs and kitchenware. Elliot yelped and beat at Monty with his tongs and wooden spoon and kept saying things like, "For the love of- Willow, _do something_!"

"Hmph. You vere having zhat coming to you, I zhink."

Monty planted himself on Elliot's chest and twisted his arms around, forcing Elliot to drop his weapons. He had his fingers around the smaller boy's throat a second later. His thumbs sunk into Elliot's flesh, but for some reason the world around _him_ was turning black and red.

"Monty!" Suddenly Willow had defected to Elliot's side and was there trying to pry them apart with her spatula. "Ztop it! Be letting him go!"

Monty heard her only in the back of his head. He couldn't have let go of Elliot even if he wanted to. All the rage from that day - all the days - was shooting out like sparks all over his skin.

" _Ztop it_!"

Elliot's face was turning blue. He clawed at Monty's shirt, wriggled his shoulders beneath Monty's legs. Like some kind of sign, the egg in its frying pan burst into flame on the stove on his left.

 _Snotty... bratty... weepy..._

The door banged open. Monty heard a shout. Suddenly rough arms had closed around his waist and ripped his fingers away from Elliot's throat.

"Lemme go! _Lemme go_! Can't ya see I nearly had him there?"

Dallas cried, "Are ya _loony_ , mate?"

Willow had fallen ear-first against Elliot's chest. She looked up with a face of panic. Though Monty was still trying to kick and bite, he could almost feel Dallas pale.

"Holy crikes, Monty!"

He threw Monty to the side; Monty crashed and rolled among pans and sacks of flour. He came up on all fours, fingers curled, ready to charge if he had to.

He didn't have to. Even when Dallas finished giving CPR forty-so seconds later and Elliot had finally lurched awake, he was still too weak to do much more than insist Dallas never, ever press his lips against his again.

For a few seconds there was silence as Elliot tried to breathe in Willow's arms. And then Dallas, without turning around,

"Monty? What in tarnation did you _do_?"

The door flew open a second time to reveal Trental standing there, red in the face. He took one glance at the situation before he pointed at Monty and said, "You're fired."

The words rang in Monty's ears.

"...What?"

"You heard me." Trental pushed the door open a little wider and gestured to the front door. When Monty looked out there he found dozens of pairs of eyes staring back at him. None were wider than that Zia girl's.

"Out."

"...Out?"

"Out."

Monty almost didn't do it, but he shifted his gaze to the right to meet Dallas's. His mouth was hanging open. Willow was clutching Elliot so tightly it looked like he might pass out again.

Dallas was the first to move. He stood quickly, removed his hat, and held a hand out to Trental all in one instant. "Sir-"

Willow was next, dropping Elliot in the process and leaving him sprawled on the floor. "Mister'enta, please-"

Trental cast a scornful glance in Elliot's direction. Slowly, the small teen pushed himself up to his hands and knees. All the hair had fallen to the left side of his face, and the one eye that was showing looked absolutely murderous.

Monty's eyes flickered down to his fingers. They curled tight into the tile grout. His knuckles shook.

"Mr. Trental sir." Dallas fingered the brim of his hat. He swallowed hard. "If Monty goes... We all gotta go."

"Done." Trental snapped his fingers and pointed again. "Get out then. All of you."

So Willow took one of Elliot's arms and Dallas took the other, and they led him past two dozen tables and dozens more people. Monty trailed after them. The sparks that he'd felt shooting outward from his skin were now prickling in his blood stream. He glanced at Zia, but couldn't hold her gaze for more than a second or two and had to focus on the back of Willow's head.

Maximus joined them at the front door. He didn't say anything, and that was even worse. Monty wished the old geezer would slap him. He wished he'd be hit. He knew how to take being hit. But _words_ , or the lack thereof... That was something else entirely.

They stood on the sidewalk still dressed in their waiters' clothes. It was almost dark. A passing car threw a spray of water over Monty's shoes.

"Well," Elliot said, "I thought that went rather well."

Monty rounded on him instantly. "Ayo, if it weren't for _you_ -"

" _Excusing me_?" Willow fired back. "You were ze one who vent attacking poor Ellie-"

" _Poor_ Ellie? Hey Twinkle-"

"Knock it off, ya wily joeys." Dallas planted one hand on Willow's chest and the other on Monty's. Behind him, Maximus held his fist in the air like he was ready to bash someone's head in with an imaginary walking stick. Elliot had his shoulders high around his ears, but his mouth twitching up at one corner.

Lunch hadn't been big, but since no one felt much like eating anymore they headed for Allenmere Park rather than the soup kitchen. Monty multitasked by kicking a stone and shredding his old suit at the same time. This left him bare-chested in the late-autumn air, but not even Maximus scolded him for it this time around. Anyway, his birth name hadn't been "Shirtless" for nothing.

Willow finally brought up the question on everyone's mind: "Vhat are ve going to be doing now zhat Monty has gotten us fi'red?"

"Yo, I din't-"

Dallas jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Hard.

"Find a new job, I presume." Elliot shrugged, unconcerned. Monty found it hard to believe that he'd been inches away from death just fifteen minutes ago. "Probably they're hiring up at the grocery store."

Willow sighed. "Still, I vill miss Mildred's."

Monty scowled at the walking trail and tore another strip from his old shirt. "We don't gotta bother lookin' for more work. They ain't gonna take us on wit'out any fancy papers."

"He's got a point," said Dallas sullenly. "Mildred's was a one-time opportune, mates."

Maximus straightened his hat. "Hmph. Kids these days, always givin' up when the first chance comes along. Why, back in my day-"

"Maxi is right," Willow cut in. "It vill not be hurting - I zhink ve vould be best checking Sun Ray's anyway. And ve can do ze picking up of ze grosissaries vhen going."

Elliot didn't bother stifling his snort. "'Grosissaries'? Did you seriously just say _'grosissaries_ '?"

" _Da_... Vhat is ze being so of it?"

Monty wrinkled his nose and said nothing.

They turned off the walking path and stopped a few dozen meters in, where the stones had been cleared away and the trees parted to make a small clearing. The air was cold, and Monty almost wished he hadn't torn up his shirt. Almost.

In the darkness they hovered around the clearing's edges, breathing for just a second in the place that was so familiar to them and yet still so foreign. This was where they had first woken with clothes and strange names and no other memories of their pasts. These days Willow and Elliot were going on the theory that Mike, obviously an assistant in some lab where a scientific experiment had gone terribly wrong, had loaded them all up into a wheelbarrow and dumped them in the middle of nowhere for the wolves to get at. Monty, who didn't believe in wolves, preferred the idea that they'd all fallen from the sky. He would have made one sexy angel.

Dallas rolled aside a boulder on the edge of the clearing to reveal a shallow hole in the ground. Monty yanked his red jacket from its tree branch as he watched the money pile up in Dallas's fedora.

"Think twen'y'll be enough?"

"Make it thirty," Maximus said, and so Dallas did.

"Monty?" That was Willow, her banter with Elliot long forgotten. "Vhere are you going to?"

He snapped a twig over his knee as he walked. "Down a' the stream, Twinkles. Where's it look like?"

"Don't go far, ya whippersnapper!"

"Yeah," Monty said, and rolled his eyes.

The season was definitely changing. More leaves were falling every day. Monty kicked them as he followed the slope down to the ditch. From there it was only a minute's walk until the thin trickles of water became a creek. Monty threw himself onto the nearest boulder and kicked off his shoes. His bare feet plopped into the water, and Monty didn't jerk them out even though the creek was icy.

"Stupid," was one of the things he muttered. "Not my fault. Kiwis. I hate kiwis. Stupid kids. Stupid Elliot. Stupid Trental. Wish I could just... get away from it all."

A red bird landed on a bush across the stream. A cardinal, Monty thought, though he didn't much care. The bird cocked its head at him and stared with one beady eye.

"Oh, who asked ya?" Monty snarled at it. He waved one arm. "Get goin', scrubface. Wormbreath. Shoo. Fly away, ya stupid bird. Don't act like ya ain't got wings! You ain't grounded like _me_!"

The cardinal ruffled its feathers and trilled like it was scolding him. Monty threw a rock that missed it by mere centimeters, and finally the bird took off. He watched it go.

"Stupid... stupid..."

Suddenly he was standing. He snatched the strips of his old shirt from where he'd dropped them and threw them one by one into the creek. A sleeve snagged on a tree root some way's down, but then the current caught it and it drifted away until it was gone. Monty grabbed his shoes, pulled on his jacket, and headed back to find the others. They glanced at him, and probably glanced at each other behind his back, but as they headed off for Sun Ray's in the fading light, they didn't say a word.

"A'right then." Dallas clapped his hands and looked around the store. "Sheila here an' I'll check out the career options. The rest a' you can go shoppin'. Meet back here in a couple a' shakes, eh?"

"Works for me," Monty muttered, stuffing his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

"Hmph. You whippersnappers stay outta trouble now."

Elliot only grunted and drifted off towards the bakery.

Monty's first stop, of course, was for Italian food. Showing great self-control he headed for spaghetti before pizza this time - Water was easy to come by, and sometimes when Willow batted her eyelashes and asked nicely (Or Elliot snuck them in the back door) the soup kitchen would let them cook their noodles on the stove. If not, they made a fine snack dry. He grabbed the first few boxes he saw, not bothering to check the price tags, and was about to head for thin-mint cookies when he saw the girl.

She was tall and slender, dark-skinned and black-haired, with wide hips and plenty of stuffing in both the front and the back. Monty's whistle must have come out louder than he'd meant it to, because she glanced over at him. A sly smile crossed her lips.

"Hey there, Sugar."

 _Sugar._

An ache filled Monty's chest, starting from smack in his center and pulsing outwards to his fingers and toes. He'd had such a bad evening already, full of stupid choices and hateful words.

 _Just once tonight, I need someone who'll call me sugar._

"You're awful sweet yaself, Dollface." Monty leaned forward with upturned eyebrows and a gap-toothed grin, taking care to keep the spaghetti boxes tucked behind his back. Tough guys didn't eat spaghetti. "Do you still give samples to people who aren't near as cute as you?"

Her eyelids fluttered. A finger landed on her lip. "Is that accent natural?"

"Is your hair?"

She raised her brows and took the slightest step forward. "Is that sexy bod?"

Monty ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders with a smile. "Guilty as charged, sweetheart. Care ta gimme a pinch just to be sure you ain't dreamin'? I think _I_ might be."

That made her laugh. She smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "I'm sure you say that to every hot girl you run across."

"And I'm sure I'd like to run across this hot girl again."

If the girl was going to say something witty in reply, she never got the chance. A voice behind Monty called his name.

 _No, please... No..._

Her eyes dimmed as Elliot sauntered up to them. He stopped right at the corner of Monty's eye, a lizard-scale blur of green. Monty didn't look at him, but he whispered Elliot's name at the very corner of his mouth, along with a choice word or two.

"What did I miss?" Elliot wanted to know. He rocked back and forth on his heels, smirking a thin-lipped smirk. "I heard someone say 'hot' and assumed they were shouting for me."

Monty risked a split-second glance at Elliot and then looked back at the girl. His teeth were set in a nervous frown, but he didn't even bother fixing them. He knew he was too late.

"Who's the kid?" asked the girl, jerking her head towards Elliot as she stepped away. Her eyes lingered on the spaghetti boxes to Monty's right. "Your understudy?"

Elliot nodded back at Monty. "My babysitter. A bit more of a nanny, honestly."

"No one I'd rather talk to more than you," Monty tried, but she wouldn't look at him, and Monty's gaze fell to the tiled floor. Elliot's reflection was smirking too.

Her words were flat when they came again. "Yeah. I figured you'd say that." With that she turned and walked briskly down the aisle, heels clicking, basket swinging on her arm.

"Whatever happened to 'Sugar'?" Monty asked himself in a soft voice.

"Aw, you'll get over it. She was about as hot as a catfish anyway."

Monty reacted fast. He swung around, fist flying, but one of Elliot's hands snapped up and caught him by the wrist. His blue eyes were boiling.

"Not so strong now when little Elliot can actually defend himself, are we?"

" _You_ ," snarled Monty. He wrenched his wrist free and was going in for a second punch. Elliot ducked and slid to the right, and Monty's fist plowed into a row of boxes on the shelf behind him.

"Come on," Elliot urged. He was bouncing on his toes. "Come on Monty - You're looking more like your old self already. Come and get me."

Monty wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But the memories of the attempted strangling, of Dallas and Willow's horrified faces, of that look in Maximus's one blue eye...

Instead, he kept his hand among the boxes and slowly, very slowly pressed his forehead against the cold metal shelf above it.

"... Why d'ya hate me, Ellie? Why'd ya do it?"

"Oh, same old story." Elliot's grin was cocky as ever. He pulled a gingerbread cookie from his hoodie pocket and bit off its head. "You know I can't resist a little chaos."

* * *

Monty felt cold by the time they returned to the park, and the outside temperature wasn't great either.

 _No jobs. No jobs. No jobs._

The others bundled themselves tight in their sleeping bags, but Monty sat on a boulder with a glass bottle clutched tightly in his fist.

 _And winter's gonna be hittin' us soon. We've got five mouths to feed, no shelter, and no income._

A thin cloud slid over the moon. Wind whistled in the trees. Monty's red jacket had never felt thinner. He took another drink from his bottle and shook his head.

 _We messed up pretty bad today._

A dark smudge of red crossed his vision. A cardinal lighted on the tree branch just above his head and paused to preen its wings.

"Look at ya," murmured Monty. "Free as a bird, ain't ya? Free to go anywhere ya want, nobody tellin' ya what ta do all the time or remindin' ya what a screw-up ya are."

He stared at the cardinal. It stopped preening, blinked down at him, and took off into the trees.

 _Free... as a... bird..._

Monty glanced over his shoulder. Willow had Dallas's hat on, and she and Elliot were bundled up beside him. For a second Monty didn't see Maximus in his place. Had the old man gone for a walk? Died and caused his body to disintegrate?

But no, there he was. Monty saw him when he moved. He had the last sleeping bag, which he draped around Monty's shoulders.

"What, ya can't sleep, porridge head?"

"Nah, I... I've got..." He gestured upwards with his bottle. "Just starwatchin'."

"Starwatching?"

"Yessir, gonna count 'em all. Oone... twwooo... treeee..."

Maximus took a hold of Monty's hand so he could examine the bottle. He shook his head.

"C'mon, Mont. This shouldn't be difficult. Don't be an idiot. It's time for bed."

"Eiigghhht... seeevvummteem... twelff..."

"Monty, you're drunk."

He jerked away from Maximus's fingers and gave an excellent hiccup. "No, I'm jus' fine... Just the ground is movin' funny... I'm jus' a li'l _essstra_ dizzy, tha's all. _Si, signore? Buongiorno! Buona sera_? Ah... _Come stai? Bene, grazie_. Hee hee hee..."

Maximus sighed softly and shook his head again. He patted Monty's wrist.

"Monty, I know today was... hard..."

Monty burst into giggles and fell on his back in the grass. Maximus gritted his teeth and rolled his one blue eye.

"Look, salami head. What I'm tryin' a' say here is just... I love ya, all right? Even if you are some stupid kid who got us all fired and has pretty much doomed us for the winter."

"Winna'? Yo, I'mma winna'! The Mont is the best winna'!"

Maximus's hands tightened on his knees. "You have your strengths, Monty, and I respect you for them. No matter how stupid you may act sometimes, you're still ... my grandson. And I love you for that."

"Love? I likes love an awful lot." Monty, still on his back, grinned stupidly up at the stars. "... Maxi? Am I your girlfriend?"

It was about this point that Maximus gave up. He sat for a few seconds more with his head low, then stood up with a sigh.

"Don't stay up too late now, ya little whippersnapper. Get to bed. We have a big day ahead of us. We're going to go see Mike."

"Mike? Don't wanna go see Mike... Ayo, who's Mike?"

"...'Night, Monty."

"G'night, Pops."

The moon, not much more than a crescent these days, moved slowly across the sky. Just to be on the safe side, Monty waited until it was around two o'clock before he stopped pretending he was drunk.

He sat up slowly and called Dallas's name in a soft voice. Then Willow's. Nothing, still nothing. Four bodies, snuggled up in sleeping bags, breathed gently in the cool air. They were asleep.

Monty finished the rest of his lemonade and stood. His bare feet crunched in dying grass as he crossed the clearing, but the others slept on. Softly still, Monty took his red jacket down from a tree branch and slipped it on.

"Time to go," he said to himself.

It was fortunate, however, that he checked his pockets before he set off, because he was missing something important.

"What the-? Ayo, who stole Monty's napkin?"

He was answered by a snore. Monty searched the clearing for it, but all he found was a fraying patch of cloth with a small round button on it.

"Augh... Right. Had it in my stupid ol' pengbird suitcoat. Thing's gotta be miles down the creek by now."

No matter - He had everything he needed right here.

Monty broke his lemonade bottle on his boulder. It shattered into at least a dozen pieces, which he almost picked up but then didn't. He pulled the sleeve of his jacket over his hand and chose the biggest piece he could find. It fit snugly in his fingers, like it was meant to be there.

Glass shard in hand, Monty crept towards the four sleeping figures. Elliot was first. Tufts of black hair stuck out from his sleeping bag, snug as a bug.

"Poor, stupid Ellie," murmured Monty as he crouched down. He took hold of the smaller boy's wrist. "You should know better than ta leave your soft skin out where the mosquitos can get at it."

He nicked Elliot's hand with the end of the shard of glass. A bead of blood welled up immediately on his thumb. Monty pressed his cloth against it, and when he was satisfied that he had collected enough blood - and he needed only a few drops - he moved on to Dallas. After that, Willow.

"Mm... Mike?" she asked in her sleep. Her eyelids flickered.

"Shh... It's just me, Willow. Go back to sleep."

Monty hesitated over Maximus, still clutching his triangle of glass. In the shadows, the old man's face looked more worn than usual. Tired. Sad.

Quickly, Monty stooped down to get the job done. Maximus stirred and grumbled something about kids these days, but he didn't wake. Monty brushed his blood against his fraying scrap of cloth.

"I love ya, Pops. And I'll come back to you all someday. I promise."

The smell of blood was strong now when Monty held the cloth near his face. Four little patches of blood. So small...worth nothing alone... But with all four of them in his possession, these pieces of the others... Well, not even Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome could stop him now.

There was one more thing to do, and Monty spent longer than he maybe should have trying to figure out how to make it work. But finally he did. Using teeth and sharp fingernails, and a bit of the glass shard, Monty ripped a small red square off his jacket. They'd know it was from him when they saw it in the morning.

 _Still not too late yet,_ urged the voice in his ear, but it was drowned out by the trilling of a cardinal.

Monty pressed the glass shard into the soft skin of his own hand. He gritted his teeth as the droplets pooled in his palm and fell like red rain, but he didn't stop until he was sure there was enough of his blood to go around. The others weren't stupid. Not a lot, at least - Simply dumber than he was, that was all. But they'd figure out eventually what it was that kept their minds and bodies from feeling sick when he was so far away.

Again with the cardinal's call. "Time to go," Monty sing-songed, tying the cloth around his necklace. It didn't really go with his bronzed shark's fang, but for once Monty didn't much care. He wasn't wearing it for its looks.

He bandaged his hand with the sleeve of his jacket and left the clearing. He left the park. This wasn't the first time he'd gone out by himself - he'd once made a midnight trip for pizza and ice cream - but this time... This time would be different.

Monty had never told the others about his discovery. It had come to him purely by accident after he'd socked Mike in the jaw. Mike had bitten his tongue and spat out a few drops of blood onto Monty's bare foot. Monty hadn't bothered to wash it after that - the thought hadn't crossed his mind - but a few minutes later when Willow strayed much too far across the parking lot, the others had all collapsed in fits of headaches and nausea ... but he'd felt nothing. Connecting the dots wasn't very hard after that. More than once they'd caught Mike saying cryptic phrases like "The five of you together equal me" or other self-absorbent things.

And speaking of Mike, Monty wasn't even halfway to Mike's place before his inner compass swung around to point the way. Instead of a prickling sensation at his back, there came a bubbling at his front. It stayed with him like a steady, comforting hand.

Monty darted down a hill in the dark and stopped in the cul-de-sac at the base. The house before him was small - two cramped stories and a one-car garage. He didn't recognize the building in the faint moonlight, but his skin was itching like mad. This had to be the place.

A light flicked on in an upper bedroom. Monty held his breath. It was Mike, of course. But the light went off after only a few seconds. Monty jogged up the driveway before Mike could change his mind and decide to look out his window. So distracted was he with his thoughts of Mike that Monty didn't even realize he'd punched in the garage code until the door rumbled open. Then he stood back and wondered how in the world he'd known what the code was.

Those thoughts flew out his the instant Monty saw the car. His mouth fell open.

Mike never drove down to the diner. He'd walked every day as long as they had known him. Monty couldn't imagine why. That was his dream car sitting in that garage.

Literally. Monty had seen it plowing through his Backflash nightmares half a dozen times. It was dark green and sleek (Though a second glance showed it was a sedan rather than the convertible he'd wanted it to be), and it shone like it was newly polished. Monty circled it and let out a low whistle. Aside from a few tell-tale streaks of grime near the wheels, it really _was_ newly polished. Almost entirely flawless, except for a bashed-in front bumper painted with dents and scars. The keys sat on the hood like they'd been left out just for him.

"Won't last long though," Monty realized aloud, "without any gas."

Slowly, carefully, Monty pushed open the door to the house. It squeaked, but no alarm went off. Monty heard no footsteps flying towards him.

Finding money didn't take him very long. There were three jars of it lined up on the back kitchen counter between the sink and Mike's big aquarium tank with all its wriggly, wide-eyed little fish. A turtle paddled up to gape at him, and he just couldn't resist giving the glass a pat. It seemed right, somehow.

The coins shifted and rattled when Monty picked the first jar up. A few small bills had been stuffed inside. It wasn't much money, but it would last so long as he drove sparingly. A few weeks, at the very least.

"Anyway, I won't be goin' _too_ far."

Something caught Monty's eye as he turned back around. There was a desk to the left of the door to the garage, blanketed with scraps of paper, tape, glue sticks, and what looked like...

Monty's breath quickened as he approached the desk. He set aside his jar and plucked the first photo from the stack. The people in the photo were blurry, but Monty recognized them instantly.

That boy on the left was _him_.

It didn't look like him. To be perfectly honest, the boy looked a lot like Mike. But he had dark slicked-back hair and tanned skin, and he was shirtless. A bronze shark tooth hung from a cord around his neck.

He was laughing, the boy. He sat on a stoop in front of a shoddy summer cabin with a seagull on one arm and a hot chick on the other. Tanned orange skin, purple hair. Monty's scalp stung.

"Who are ya?" he murmured, rubbing his thumb along the photo. "Don't tell me ya're really... me."

That girl. Monty realized that he had seen her before, now that he'd stirred up the memories. She'd been at the horse race weeks ago... and she'd kissed him in his dreams. Monty stared at the scene, trying to burn the image into his brain.

There was a reflection in the cabin's window. Looking closer, Monty realized that it was a boom mic, like the kind they used on TV.

 _Nah, couldn't be... But what_ if?

Monty turned a page of Mike's scrapbook. The Zia girl was there, setting a flower in her hair as she gazed into still water. Another picture showed Mike sitting on the beach, scowling. With his arms folded and his left eye squinted up, he looked like he was doing an impression of Maximus. In another photo, Monty saw Mike in Dallas's fedora, wearing the cockiest of grins.

 _Geez, the others'd love ta get their hands on this. I should..._

Then Monty remembered the free cardinal. He curled his lower lip and turned another page.

A door swung upstairs. Footsteps shifted on a creaking floor. Monty started at the noise. Prickling sensations raced from his forehead to his fingertips - Mike was on the way.

Quick as he could, Monty snatched up both his jar of money and the strange scrapbook. Cradling both wasn't easy, but he slipped back into the garage, sprang into the car, and turned the key. The sedan strained.

"Come on, come on now, baby. Start up for ol' Monty, will ya sweetheart?"

This time it did. Monty checked over his shoulder and eased the sedan from the driveway and into the circle. Only when he was out did it really hit him that, well, he'd never driven before. Not in this lifetime. It seemed to come naturally, anyhow.

Monty shifted into drive and looked up to see the door to the garage wrenched open. Mike stood there in bright yellow pajamas, his jaw dangling. Unable to resist, Monty rolled down the window.

"Catch me if ya can, loser!"

Mike snapped into action. He hurtled across the garage and plunged down the driveway, but by then Monty had taken off up the hill. One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the scrapbook at his side. Slowing at the stop sign at the top, Monty risked another glance at the photo beneath his thumbnail.

 _She was on TV, whoever she was. Someone out there gotta know who she is. And I'm gonna find her._

His headlights the only glow in the darkness, Monty turned left and gunned the engine. The sedan flew forward, bouncing over bumps in the road. His necklace - tooth, cord, and bloody cloth - slapped against his face.

" _Vado dritto_! Yeah, baby! Now this is what I'm talkin' about! _Vieni con me!_ "

A cardinal zipped past his window.


	5. Not Proud, Worthless

Willow dreamed of applesauce.

The stuff wasn't hard to swim through - not for an athletic girl like her - but it was awfully cold and wet. Her clothes clung loosely to her skin. Or maybe she wasn't wearing clothes. She was so coated in the applesauce that it was impossible to tell, and since she had bigger things to worry about it didn't matter anyway.

"Monty!" she screamed as she treaded water. Sauce. Whatever. It rolled in gentle waves all around her, and every once in awhile a wall of it would slap over her face and leave her gagging.

"Monty! Vhere are you being gone to?"

A voice called out to her in the distance. Willow paused for a few precious seconds to listen, shaking applesauce from her ears. Once she realized that the voice belonged to Mike, and was coming from behind her, she forged on.

"Monty! Please! Please vith all of ze rainbow bits on top! Please vith ze cherries!"

No answer but the slapping and sucking of the applesauce. Willow let out a string of curses; even angry and in her dreams, her Russian was flawless.

"Willow," Mike called again, and then again, his voice fainter. "Lana!"

Willow glanced back over her shoulder to see his long blue canoe plunge down a particularly tall wave. Dallas was seated in the back with one hand on his fedora. In the prow crouched Elliot, picking at his fingernails. Maximus, shaking applesauce from his suitcoat, huddled beside him.

"There, mates!" shouted Dallas, pointing a finger Willow's way. "There's our li'l lost Sheila! Now we can head on back home, eh?"

Willow bobbed uncertainly in the waves.

"Hold on, Svet!" Mike thrust his paddle into the applesauce and gave a mighty shove. "We're coming for you!"

 _Non,_ she thought, _Eto ne pravil'no. This is not right._

"I thought we'd never see you again," said Elliot, looking disappointed.

"Darn kids these days, runnin' off ta go swimmin' in applesauce. Why, back in my day, we at least told our folks when we was gonna so much as go cricket-huntin' in the next field over."

"Come on, Sheila. Up we go."

Familiar hands reached out over the side of the canoe. Willow backpaddled in the waves.

"And zen. . .Ve are going home?" she asked Dallas.

"Straight back ta shore, Sheila. Right safe and sound we'll be there, eh?"

"After that we can all go for gingerbread and hot chocolate." Elliot swept a finger through the applesauce and examined it with disgust. "At least _something_ good will come out of this mess, then."

"But vhat about Monty?"

The four of them in the canoe regarded one another with blank looks. Mike shrugged. Elliot wiped applesauce across his hoody and said, "What _about_ Monty?"

"Ve are not going to be leaving him behind, are ve?"

"Monty's gone, Svet." Mike handed his oar to Dallas and reached out his hand. His dark eyes were warm and friendly, but when he smiled Willow could see that the gap between his teeth led to a deep, dark hole. "It's okay. You can forget about him now. He's never coming back."

" _Non_!" she screamed, paddling furiously, "You are lying to Villow! You are lying! _You are lying_!"

That was when she woke up to find that it was dark and that she was still drowning. Willow let out a screech. She thrashed against the heavy waves as they grew thicker around her. They constricted. They weren't waves after all, she realized with horror. A boa constrictor had wrapped itself around her body and begun to squeeze.

"Help! Someone be helping Villow!"

She should have known better than to scream again. Dark red clouded her vision and there was no more air in her body and the snake kept squeezing her with its coils and it was crushing her lungs entirely and she couldn't breathe and she was going to die.

Finally she fell off the bed with a thump.

"Ha. . .ha. . .ha. . .Dreaming. Only dreaming."

The back of her shirt was stained with sweat. Her arms shook as she leaned her weight on them.

"Only dreaming, Villow. Do not cry. . ."

Willow wriggled out of her comforter and blinked around. It was, well. . .Dark. The blackness was so thick she couldn't even see the violet on her needle-point nails. Dark curtains were drawn across a dark window and a dark sky. Willow squinted, but she needn't have bothered. There wasn't anything to see but dark, dark, and more dark. Even the bed beside her was difficult to make out in the black. She held onto it with tight fingers as she pulled herself to her feet.

"… Vhere?"

A switch flipped on in the hallway and lit the base of the door in a thin streak of yellow. Still dizzy from sleep and thrashing, Willow cried out and scrambled towards it. She stepped on something hard in the process - Quite annoying, that, since it never would have happened if it were bright.

"Maxi!" she shouted, just as the door flew open. It connected hard and fast with her jaw. Willow slammed into the wall with a yelp.

"Mike? I heard screaming. Are you all right?"

There was a repeated slapping noise, like a hand and the wall playing tug-o'-war over the light switch. Finally it clicked on; someone sucked in a loud breath and let it out in a whoosh.

"Oh, goodness!"

Groaning, Willow put a hand to her lips. She tasted blood. Through a half-closed gaze she saw a dark blue blur drop to its knees beside her.

" _Zdrastwetca_ … Sydney."

Mike's mother pressed the rough sleeve of her bathrobe to Willow's face. "Oh Svetty baby… You're bleeding; let me see."

A chill flickered up and down Willow's arms. She sat up and spat a bloody tooth into the palm of Sydney's hand. The old woman grimaced and dabbed at her cheek again.

"Oh dear, and it's swelling now…"

"Villow is all right, Sydney. Really. She is used to hitting her limbs and breaking ze many pieces of her face."

Sydney sighed and helped Willow to her feet. "Still, we should both be more careful in the future. I'm not used to having so many people in so small a space."

Willow nodded and ran her tongue along her gums. "And now Villow is needing to rinse all her mouth. Vhich vay is it to ze bathroom again?"

"Just down the hall here." Sydney hovered uncertainly as they walked, like she couldn't decide if she wanted to give Willow a hug or flee to Vermont. "I've been making eggs and bacon for the others, but I know you're vegetarian. You're welcome to help yourself to anything you find in the cupboards."

"Zhank you, Sydney."

She disappeared down the stairs, leaving Willow alone in the bathroom. It took a good eight minutes before the blood stopped coming, and even then she could still taste it on her tongue.

"Hmm… Maybe zey are keeping mints or spare toozbrushes in here somewhere…" Willow rustled through the drawers and found dental floss and nail files and bars of soap, but nothing for the bad taste in her mouth.

She tried the medicine cabinet next, and was greeted by a cascade of marbles. With a tremendous roar they tumbled in a wave across the counter, clacked across the floor, plopped into the toilet, bounced off the mirror, rippled down her shirt - Everywhere, like a vicious horde of tiny monkeys.

Willow stumbled back, marbles rolling beneath her feet, and fell with a crash into the bathtub behind her. It was full of icy, soapy water and Willow fumbled for a handhold, spitting and spluttering. Her fingers wrapped around a dangling cord. She pulled on it without thinking and the showerhead jerked off its perch and smacked her hard on the head.

" _Elliot_!"

He didn't come, and Willow wasn't surprised. She didn't like to deal with herself when she was angry either.

"Stupid boy, marbles, water… Ugh. Ze prank var has been turned on now."

But, as long as she was dripping wet, she might as well take a shower.

Willow was just shedding the last of the blue pajamas when the door banged open. "Svet, I heard you scr- Ah, geez!"

It was Mike, and he hastily backed out again stammering apology after apology. Downstairs, Maximus shouted something about peeping toms and presumably smacked Mike on the back of the head with his cane. Dallas roared with laughter.

"Honestly," Willow muttered, glaring at herself in the mirror, "Villow can not _vait_ to be getting out of zhis place."

Thirty minutes later, wrapped in a soft yellow bathrobe, smelling of lavender, nails freshly clipped, dark hair wet and unbrushed down her back, Willow made her grand appearance at the base of the stairs.

"Um," she said, raising one eyebrow. "Is Sydney knowing zhat you vere building ze cave in her living room?"

"G'day there, sheila!" Blankets had been hung like curtains all along the ceiling, and after some rustling Dallas's face appeared around one. "Rapt ta see ya up an' about this fine mornin', eh?"

"Is … lovely morning, zhank you, Dallas." Willow folded her arms over her chest and took a step forward, forcing his eyes to lock with her own. "Is zhere being ze kitchen in all zhat mess, and if zhere is, how is Villow to be getting zhrough to it in all of one piece?"

"Ya got me there!" More thrashing. A muffled curse. Finally Maximus pulled a blanket up from the bottom and tossed it back over his shoulder. "I've been trapped in this darn maze for hours, I tell you - hours!"

Dallas rolled his eyes.

"Hello, Maxi. You are looking much like running today."

"Eh?"

"Running?" Willow considered the word a moment more, then snapped her fingers. "Dashing, zhat is ze term. Are you having ze plans to be going somevhere tonight?"

"What?"

Willow tugged at the belt of her robe and nodded at his suit. "You are dressed up very nice, vith ze tie and all of ze everyzhing."

"Oh, this." Maximus's bony cheeks took on a purple tinge. "It's, uh…"

She chuckled. Poor, lovesick Maxi. What would Mike and Elliot think of this?

"Step right this way, sheila." Dallas beckoned with his hand. "If yer too bodgy ta tackle the real thin' head-on, I'll show ya to the shortcut."

"Oh, bah! Villow is not needing your help to be getting past ze dumb maze."

"Sheila, hold on-"

Too late. Willow ducked beneath the first blanket and plunged directly into the second. There was a tearing sound, and the makeshift curtain came down on her head. Fumbling, trying to turn back, she tripped over a pillow fort and knocked Maximus to the ground.

"Dagnabit, Willow!"

"S-sorry, Maxi." Willow scrambled off him as fast as she could, trying to free herself of blankets as she went. She could hear Monty catcalling in her brain, and for some reason that embarrassed her more than Mike walking in on her in the bathroom had. "Villow is really having ze vurst of days today, and is only being ze morning…"

Maximus scowled at her. Then he reached for the nearest pillow and smacked her across the face with it. Willow squeaked and fell back, but she wasn't caught off guard for long. Defending herself with one hand she shouted, "Be covering me, Dallas!"

He whistled. "You can count on Seeker, sheila!"

"Hey, gaining up on an old man? Kids these days, dagnabit! Whatever happened to respectin' your elders? _Ahh!_ "

Willow spun a small throw pillow in each hand, and with her foot she kicked a cushion into Maximus's face. Dallas whacked him in the shoulder with another one, and Maximus snagged his feet out from under him with the hook of his cane.

"For Mo'zher Russia!" Willow cheered, and hurled her pillows down on Maximus's head. "Surrender, very stupid Canadian! Ve have you beaten before ve are beginning!"

He swiped at her with his cane too, but Willow dodged it with a back-handspring.

"Hey," Dallas sputtered, "watch your yobbin' feet now, eh? Ladies won't like it if ya smash up my pretty jaw."

"Being sorry!"

"Aw, can't stay mad at a freckle like you. Wink." Cue wink.

For an old man, Maximus was holding his own fairly well. Limp forgotten, he'd ripped a cushion from the couch. Dallas was right up against the solid wall now, covering his face with his fedora.

"'ey, that just ain't fair, mate! I don't wanna hurt some'un so old an' lark!"

"Of course ya don't, ya ninny! And that's just another reason why old people are hip."

"'Hip'," Dallas scoffed, "Sure, mate - an' I'm a cockie."

Willow came to his rescue with an afghan. She looped it around Maximus's eyes from behind. When he moved to yank it off, she grabbed hold of his wrist, twisted, and pulled him around to face her. Her petal-painted nails bit into his ghostly skin.

"Gotcha, Maxi."

Maximus's automatic response was to knee her in the stomach.

"And stay down, dagnabit!" he shouted, flinging a throw pillow at her midsection. Immediately Dallas sat on top of it.

"Sorry, sheila," he said with a tip of his hat, "but I'm a bit o' a double agent here, eh?"

"H-hey Dal, Villow is not breaz'ing right! Vhich side are you being on?"

"Maxi's. And yours." Dallas snatched up the nearest blanket and tossed it backwards. It landed over Maximus like a bad ghost costume All Hallow's Eve, and he fell on top of them with a muffled thump. Then all of them were half-laughing and half-wheezing, and then they looked up to see Mike's mother standing at the base of the stairs.

Suddenly Willow was very aware of what a mess the living room was.

Instantly Maximus was on his feet, clearing his throat and tugging at his tie. "Good morning, Sydney. You're, uh, you're looking lovely today in red and white."

"Actually she is looking like she wants to be punching you," Willow murmured, creeping back and away on her palms and knees.

"Right smack in the kisser," whispered Dallas on his other side.

"Nice weather we're having?" Maximus tried again.

She _really_ looked like she wanted to punch him. Her face was pink, her eyes squinted; her fists trembled by her sides.

"Uh… Dagnabit."

Leaving Maximus to his fate, Willow slipped beneath a hanging sheet, ducked another, and spotted the doorway to the kitchen. Behind her she heard Maximus whine, "It was those darn kids, see-"

The kitchen was smaller than Willow was used to. But then again, she was used to ten hours a day in the back of a diner, six-point-five days a week. Monotonous as it had been, at least that place had looked nice and trim. Here, the walls were painted a sickly shade of green: autumn grass just before it withered into yellow. The room tasted like overcooked bacon and dishes still dotted with midnight-meal lasagna.

"Oh." Mike avoided her gaze as he scraped bits of egg to one side of his plate. "Hey, Willow. Sleep well?"

"Yes, very much so. Zhank you for lending Villow your blue pajamas and squishy soft bed." Willow plucked a fairly-clean glass from the sink and waved at all the little fish circling about in their aquarium. "How vas sharing ze living room vith Maxi, Dal, and Ellie?"

Mike shrugged and stuck the last forkful of eggs in his mouth. "All right. Maximus kept complaining about not having enough pillows or blankets or this and that, Dallas snored really loud in my ear, and Elliot stepped on my stomach when he snuck off to the kitchen about one in the morning, but it wasn't that bad. I feel well-rested, at least."

" _Khorosho_. Is zhere being any orange juice about?"

"Should be. We have this weird, thin little fridge in that corner. Over there behind the pantry door, at the end of the counter next to the stove. See it, right by the coff-"

" _Da_ , Mike. Villow can see ze fridge."

And she saw something on top of the fridge too, crammed into the small space between it and the cabinets. Not much more than a splash of shadow, really. A slitted pair of dark blue eyes followed Willow's every movement as she opened the fridge and filled her glass to the brim with sweet-smelling orange juice.

"Happy morning, Elliot. You are looking very much like an upsetful cat, so perhaps Villow vill be leaving you a dish of ze milk after she does swallow cereal. Did you do sleeping up zhere for all of ze night? It is looking most uncomfy."

The eyes vanished for a heartbeat as Elliot blinked down at her, but he said nothing.

"Eh, be suiting yourself, zhen."

Willow downed a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, two apples, a peach, and several glasses of orange juice, helped Mike feed his fish, and by then Sydney had stepped into the kitchen. Her gray and black hair was cinched in her fist, and the one eye Willow could see was red. She clutched a full pack of cigarettes and would probably finish the whole thing by noon and start on her next. When she spoke, her voice stayed low and level.

"Why is there a thirteen-year-old boy on top of my fridge?"

"Seventeen," he mumbled into his arms.

Willow tossed her last apple core into the trash can. "He is having himself ze social phobia. Be getting used to it." Leaving Elliot to scramble down and sputter some retort that was half protest and half admittance, she headed back for the living room. The blankets had been taken down and tossed around the floor, and it looked like Dallas was-

"Look sharp, sheila!"

The warning erupted too late. Something cold and hard and wet smacked against Willow's chin and she fell back on her butt, spitting and spluttering.

"Y'all right there, sugar glider?"

Willow brushed whiteness off her nose. It was cold to the touch. Streams of it trickled down her neck and chilled the collar of her bathrobe.

"S-snow? Inside ze house?"

Dallas grinned. "Tis a beaut thing, eh?" Implied wink.

Willow stared stupidly at him, icy crystals dripping through her fingers.

"Snow?" she asked again.

He took her arm and pulled her to her feet. Gently, he led her over to the window. The bright and open window, its old curtains lost among the quilts and rags across the floor.

It was cold, the glass. Willow pressed her forehead against it and watched the pane fog up as she breathed.

Snow.

It fell gently, the flakes swirling and spinning like tiny ballerinas. Like the kids down at the skate park. Like dancers.

Or gymnasts.

"It is much lovely," she murmured. She hadn't expected any less - Mike had promised it would be beautiful, when it came. Willow had waited. So many weeks, so many months here in Canada … but the warm weather had dragged on, and never once had she seen it snow. Now it rose in gentle hills across the front yard. A thousand soft bunnies nibbling on stalks of grass. The sight filled her with peace. She sighed.

"Wanna touch it?"

"Can I?" Willow's fingernails clicked against the glass.

"Ain't no sign sayin' otherwise, eh?" Dallas crouched and set his fingers beneath the window. Willow shivered and folded the bathrobe sleeves over her hands as cold wind brushed by her cheeks.

"Here we are now, sheila." He ducked out first, his boots crunching on frosty gravel and woodchips.

"Villow can not be going out zhere, silly meat-pie. She is not vearing any shoes."

"Aw, she won't be needing 'em," he said, and pulled her into his arms. Willow's first instinct was to yelp. She twisted her nails into the folds of his corduroy jacket. Her toes clenched like tiny fists.

"D-Dallas!"

He laughed, the sound billowing out with a puff of breath that, oddly enough, she could see. "I've got ya, Wil. We'll just pop a look around, eh?"

The snow came down. Willow blinked flakes from her lashes and peered into the sky. She couldn't see the sun, only a soft underbelly of clouds, gently bleeding. Her teeth shook. Her throat stung in the back. Willow hid her face in Dallas's shoulder.

"Cold?" he asked.

" _Da._ And you are being varm."

His fingers caught in the unbrushed ends of her hair as he shifted her weight in his arms. "Don't worry, sheila. I won't letcha freeze."

His steps were lurching - gentle and reassuring. A welcome relief from the swirling confusion and pained thoughts inside her head.

"Dallas?"

"Hm?"

Willow closed her hand over a button on his jacket. "How much longer do you zhink ve are having to be staying at Mike's home?"

He kicked deep trenches in the white dunes. Warm breath tickled her ear.

"Dunno, beauty. Maybe a week or two. Maybe three. I've got a couple a' words I'd like ta exchange with that stringy emu, if he knows what's good for 'im. Could throw a wobbly, though - That's the tricky part, eh? An I still wanna sock him good in the kisser and toss him out the- 'ello, what's all this now?"

Willow glanced back, her teeth in her lip and her shoulders shaking. Her vision blurred with snow.

"Vhat…?"

Then she saw him. A figure, built lean like a twig, moved across the lawn towards the street.

"Elliot?" she murmured first. Then, "Monty?"

Monty, with his swaggering walk, his tipped-up chin, his thrown-back shoulders. Monty, with his constant smirk, his narrow eyes, his bitter laugh.

But no. The snow parted and it was really just Mike, folded into a bright yellow jacket that glinted like gold against the falling flakes. He made jerky movements, shoulders hunched.

Willow closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her teeth.

Dallas shifted her in his arms. "Oi there! Somethin' eatin' at ya, mate?"

"Huh? Oh." Mike swung around and cocked his head, as if sizing them for the first time. "Hey, Dallas. Willow. I was just… going… to get the mail. Out of the mailbox. From yesterday. For my mom. Yeah. Um… Enjoying the snow?"

"It's an experience all right," Dallas told him with a laugh. "Glad we ain't walkin' ta Mildred's in this monster right now, eh sheila?"

Privately, Willow wished they were. She missed those days when she'd had a purpose.

Mike shivered and tugged at his collar with one hand. "Yeah, well, you'd better get used to it. Once the snow hits Manitoba, it doesn't go away easily, heh heh heh…"

Willow felt Dallas jump a bit, but he caught himself again and said, "Well, lucky we get ta lob 'round here with you an' your mum for a time then, eh?"

Mike's smile faltered for a second there. "Yeah," he said, "About that… See, I've been kinda thinking."

What Mike was thinking, Willow didn't get the chance to hear. White powder exploded against the back of his neck with a splash. Mike swung around, Dallas snorted like a pony, and Willow pricked up her ears.

 _But vhere-? Ah, he is vearing vhite. Very much clever._

"Ellie?" Dallas's voice curved upwards like a smirk. "'Bout time ya made yer way out here, ya rippin' li'l conch, you."

Elliot's dark blue eyes blinked and vanished among the snow. On closer inspection Willow saw that he, like she and Dallas, hadn't properly dressed himself for a long day outside. He'd simply plucked a white bedsheet up from the floor, smothered himself in the folds, and called that good enough.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, did you put a _rock_ in that snowball? Not cool."

Elliot smiled grimly in confirmation and hurled another. Then a third. Mike dodged them, barely. It bothered Willow to see that Elliot held the dripping crystals with his bare hands. And he was so ghostly pale that, with the help of his sheet, he nearly vanished into the lawn altogether. A brilliant disguise and a face that could get away with murder - Even if he didn't have the charisma to match - were a _bad_ combination. She hoped he wouldn't get any ideas.

"Villow is vanting to be down now," Willow announced, pushing her palms against Dallas's chest.

"You wanna get-?"

"Down, _da_."

There she stood, up to her mid-calves in crackling ice, with nothing to protect her from the chill but a plush yellow bathrobe that had a fat orange raccoon on the chest. Her bare toes were already turning blue, and her lips were probably the same. Her dark hair whipped in the wind. It blew, wet and dripping, into her mouth as she bent down and plunged her hands into the snow.

Mike yelped again as one of Elliot's missiles found its mark. Dallas shouted, "Take it like a dinkum man, mate!" and wrapped the smaller teen around the neck.

"Uncle, uncle! Lemme go, Dal! Ha ha ha!"

A flash of movement - A snowball smacked against him from behind. Willow bounced on her heels.

"Oh come, Mikey! You are being paz'etic! Villow can be taking all ze three of you down vhile sleeping!"

"You wanna toss that by my ear again?" Dallas released Mike and crouched to gather a fresh handful of ice. He grinned a gap-tooth grin. "Come an' make somethin' a' it, sheila. _Snowball fight_!"

Instead of ducking the throw, Willow dodged left, tripped on the hem of her robe, and sprawled face-first into the ice. Elliot snorted a laugh from somewhere she couldn't see. Her ears burned. Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy.

And suddenly powder was flying over Willow's head from all directions - Mike and Dallas and invisible Elliot in a triangle of flinging snow, without her.

"Every mate for himself, eh!"

"And all of ze sheilas too!" Willow shouted, shielding her face as she sprang to her feet. Again she tripped and fell at the second step. Frost found its way behind her ears and beneath her collarbone. Icemelt trickled between her breasts. Her toes caught in the thick fabric when she tried to stand.

This bulky bathrobe was such a hindrance to an acrobatic girl like her. Something would have to be done about it.

"Now," Willow hissed, "ve are fighting fairly."

Mike choked so hard when he saw her, he almost lost his balance and fell in the snow. "Svet, you're… you're naked!"

"Close yer heavy mug, mate." High-pitched whistle.

"And so? Now Villow shall do ze vinning! _Charging_!"

Ice pelted her. Wind howled. Cold stung her throat. Her feet burned.

She had never felt so alive before. So _at home_ , like she'd been born and raised in the snow.

Mike shielded his face as she hurtled towards him, but it did no good. Willow tackled him into a snowbank and they went rolling.

Dallas was clapping and hollering, "Well done, Mikey! Ya got her now, ya dingo!"

"Tear him to shreds, Pixiedust!" Elliot shouted back. "I'll send help!"

She couldn't see. She couldn't see, and she could hardly breathe. Her face stung with icy droplets. Her forehead slammed against Mike's nose. There was only a single color in the world, and that was white.

Then red.

It took a second for Willow to realize there was blood on her hand. But was it hers, from another knocked-out tooth? Or was it Mike's, scratched by her nails?

It didn't matter. In half a heartbeat, nothing really mattered anymore, because she was _so cold_. How could anything be so cold?

Willow raised her head from the snowbank, spitting frost and glaring. Mike was saying something like, "Dude, no, she's like your sister!" and looking the other way, towards Dallas. He didn't see the brown blur coming down at him from behind.

"Wha-? _Mike_!"

Willow grabbed the collar of Mike's golden jacket and yanked him back to the snow. Elliot missed his target and, overbalanced, flopped beside them. Still bundled in his bedsheet, he melted immediately into the white. The heavy branch in his hand did not.

Mike scuttled backwards like a wounded crab and gasped like maybe he couldn't breathe or something. Elliot grabbed again for his branch, but Willow was fast and so she kicked him in the nose. There was a second's pause before it trickled red.

He pitched sideways, bleeding snowflakes from his hair. Then he was yelling something. She was yelling too and threw herself at him.

In a blink Dallas appeared, snatching Elliot around the middle like he always, always did. Elliot bit Dallas's hand but he didn't let go, and Dallas called him names and smacked him upside the head, and Mike was gasping, and she was sitting naked in the snow and feeling very cold.

No one breathed until they saw the man who stood out on the driveway. He looked warm in that thick coat and soft hat, Willow thought bitterly, and he wasn't handsome - All short and chubby, with a silvering comb-over and tanned face. He seemed more curious than skittish as he observed the battlefield in the front yard. There was a bouquet of roses in his fist.

He said, "Is this… a bad time?"

Mike scrambled to his feet, spurting nonsense and flinging up snow. "Oh, Kenny! You! I wasn't- It's, uh- This isn't- I'm not- We didn't- These aren't- She wasn't- Are you, um … Uh, hi?"

Elliot made a choking noise and Kenny looked their way. His brows went up even higher. He pulled his toque down to cover his ears.

"Well… Good morning, Mike. I'm looking for Syd. Is she in?"

"Syd- In- What?" Mike shifted around so that he stood between Kenny and Willow. "Oh- Mom. Yeah. You have a date. For lunch. Right. Wow, uh… You're a little early, aren't you?"

Willow closed her eyes and let herself burn. Hot. And cold. Dallas seemed to notice. As Elliot's choking turned to shouting, Dallas dropped his jacket over her and said, "We really oughta get you inside too, sheila."

Inside, Sydney was nowhere to be found. "Just wait here a minute," Mike told Kenny, and then he ushered Willow upstairs because "Geez Lana, what were you even _thinking_? You've gotta be freezing!"

She found her old dress where she had left it, thrown on Mike's bed. It took her a moment to realize it, because the tangled bedsheets were brown and almost the same sandy color as the fabric. It hung off one side amidst a Niagra Falls of blankets.

Willow pulled it free and shook it out. It was tattered at the hem, and so short now that she almost never wore it for fear of showing off a little more skin than those hormone-ridden boys could handle, figurative brothers or not. Certainly hadn't stopped Dallas.

Sigh. But why not? Mike had seen her naked twice already, and that was today alone.

So Willow pulled on the dress and smoothed it out with one hand. Where melted snow rubbed off her palm, the fabric clung ice-cold to her skin.

She stared at her face in the small dresser mirror and she wondered, _How?_ How had she, she who knew the Russian tongue by heart, ever ended up locked in the company of an angry old man, a rugged adventurer, a budding psychopath, and a stupid, bull-headed, flirt-flinging, no-good meathead like Monty?

Monty. Willow's throat closed over. Monty wasn't just her best friend. He was her twin.

Willow knew it was a stupid sentiment. Apart from their shared black hair, the two of them looked nothing alike. They didn't even have the same color of skin - No one in the world would believe that she, so cloud-pale she could almost disappear, could possibly share the same blood as his burned caramel.

Willow flipped over the hem of her dress. Stitched crookedly along the underside was a strip of red fabric, stained darker with drops of blood. His blood, they knew now. It was all they'd been able to find, the morning after Monty ran away.

There were voices downstairs. As Willow headed down the hall she heard Mike's mother apologizing to Kenny, something about cleaning up blankets and pillow forts and doing her hair, and he said it was fine and that she looked beautiful, as always. The perfect picture of romance. But they'd left by the time Willow came down. She found only Maximus in the living room. He sat in a ragged armchair by the window, tapping his cane.

"Maxi?"

He turned towards her, blue eye dull. Willow saw he wasn't wearing his tie. She hesitated.

"Vould you enjoy if Villow made ze hot chocolate? She is much vanting some for herself, vhich is vhy she asked you."

"No," he said, "Thank you, Willow."

She flinched. Maxi never said 'Thank you'.

In the kitchen, Willow rinsed off the pan that had been used to cook the scrambled eggs, then poured in some milk and set in on the stove. She turned the gas all the way up to watch the leaping flames, then rolled it back down again.

"Mike? How long should Villow be vaiting here for ze milk to boil?"

No answer.

"Dallas?"

No answer.

"Ah… Elliot?"

No answer. Not even Maximus shouting for her to keep it down. Pursing her lips, Willow poked her head around the doorway to see the old man with his head in one hand, snoring softly. Beyond him, Dallas sat in the yard building a snow fort with Mike and the two little girls who lived next door. Sugary sweet, the both of them.

Elliot was nowhere to be seen out there, but Willow wasn't really concerned. He wouldn't attack Mike again so long as Dallas was around. Not for awhile. As much as he couldn't resist playing elaborate pranks and wriggling into trouble, when things came back around to bite him then Elliot was an absolute coward. He relied on the element of surprise rather than the follow-through to take someone down.

The phone shrilled on her left. Willow jolted backwards, knocking against the wall. The landline toppled onto the computer desk, demanding attention.

"Ah… ah… Phone, Villow. Just phone. Very loud phone."

She would have hung it back up if the voice on the other end wasn't speaking in Russian.

Granted, it was poor Russian - A jarbled collection of daily phrases that Willow herself threw out from time to time. But it was Russian nonetheless.

Willow swallowed. " _D…Dobroye utro_?"

Instantly the mysterious voice lost the bad Russian accent. "Yo- This the finest pizza Manitoba has to offer?"

Willow cradled the phone against her ear and slowly slid down the wall. She cupped one hand over her mouth.

"I'd like to order a large with pepperoni, anchovies-"

"Vhere have you been _at_? Have you not any idea how _vorried_ Villow has been for you? Every night for a veek she has been veeping for you, and dreaming applesauce nightmares and seeing Monty's face in ze corners of her eyes!"

"… Do I want to know why you said applesauce?"

"And she is not ze only one to be feeling such zhings as zhis, even if ze o'zers vill not be admitting to it. Dallas is growing more insane vith every day. Elliot is spending more time sulking in ze kitchen and less time causing trouble. Maximus stares out ze window and sits by himself all ze day."

Willow drew in a deep breath, blinking back her tears.

"And Mike - Yes, even Mike - Villow sees him crying softly into his pillow at night, and she knows zhat his tears are for you. How _could_ you, Monty? Just go and leave us like zhat? I zhought ve vere your _family_!"

Monty laughed. And he laughed, and he laughed… and suddenly he was crying, and she was crying, and they were both crying. Willow didn't know how long they cried, only that it was long enough for her bare feet to get cold from the tile and for her butt to fall asleep.

"Zo?" she asked once her sobs had died away. She twirled the phone cord in spirals around her finger. "H-have you been finding vhat you vere looking for, at least?"

Silence. Willow heard a sniffle.

"Monty, vhere are you? Mike and ze o'zers are just outside in ze snow - Ve'll drop every'zing and be coming to get you right avay. Ve'll rent ano'zher car somehow. Villow promises zhat she vill be forgiving you for ze running avay somehow, after she has yelled at you for a little bit of time."

"Ran outta gas smack dab in the woods somewhere in Saskatchawan. Hiked on ta the nearest city - Had ta be fifteen miles or so, all snow."

"Oh, Monty…"

"I had ta leave the car. Could be long gone for all I know, towed off or somethin'. Money's runnin' out. Bought myself a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, plannin' on getting a cinnamon roll or somethin' for breakfast tomorrow, I don't know."

He laughed then, bitterly.

"And I loved it, Willow. Every freakin' minute. So what if I'm barefoot and the snow-rain's pourin' down on me and I don't know what my future holds? For the first time, I actually feel like I'm _free_."

Again he laughed. And stopped.

"Whoa, hey, what's eatin' at ya, Twinkletoes?"

Dully she said, "How could you?"

"Look. I _had_ ta go, Wil. Don't ya see? Spendin' my days washin' windows and moppin' floors in some small-town diner… That ain't for me. I couldn't live that way no more."

"Did ve not mean anyzhing to you? Did _Villow_ not mean anyzhing to you? Your own tvin sister? After all zhis time, ve mattered less zhan… zhan an old car and ze open road?"

"Ayo, my car looks brand new, all right? Not a scratch on her. Don't be talkin' smack 'bout my car or I'll ruffle up your feathers. You know I will."

"… Monty? Are you being zhere still?"

The line crackled as Monty breathed into the phone.

"Willow?"

"Da?"

"… I wanna come home, Twink. I want it more'n I've ever wanted anythin' else in the world. But I can't. Not yet. I ain't done what I came here for."

"Zhen be enlightening me. Vhat is zhat being?"

"There's a girl."

Of course there was. If he'd claimed there wasn't, she wouldn't have believed it was her Monty.

"Girl? Vhat girl?"

"I found a scrapbook. _Mike_ 's scrapbook actually, but it ain't just his story he's got in there. See, it's… it's _ours_."

Willow's breath caught in her throat. Her fingernails bit into her leg. She stared at Mike's colorful fish swimming aimless loops in their tank.

"Vhat are you meaning about?"

"I mean, I think it is. I don't know for sure. But these people in it…" The sound of rustling paper echoed over the line. "Geez, every time I see their faces they make my forehead prickle something awful and I just feel… I _know_ them. I've seen them before, maybe in another lifetime or something. His chick's in here at least a dozen times - And this one with the freckles and the brown hair? I saw her our last day at Mildred's. And _her_? She's the one that raced ol' Max neck and neck with the horses weeks ago!"

"But how…?"

Silence.

"I've done some thinkin', Twinkletoes. I've looked at this book hours and hours every day since I left. And I swung by the library, with their computers…"

"Da?"

Again Monty was silent, and it was killing Willow. She bit down on her knuckles.

"I hope it ain't true, what I've seen and what I've read. It can't be. None of it makes any sense. But geez, it matches right up with every slip-up Mike has ever made."

" _Vell_?"

She could almost see Monty shake his head.

"… It was awful, Wil. What we used a' be. How we became that way. What he did. What _we_ did. What happened to us. Everything. Promise me you'll never ask Mike ta tell you the story."

"Vhat do you-?"

"Just promise me, a'right? If Mike decides to tell ya then fine. That's up ta him, and maybe he can tell it better'n I can. Or maybe his story's a different one entirely. Just promise me ya won't go searchin' it out on your own. 'Cuz once ya hear it… You'll never be able ta look at our little family the same way again. And… I don't want you goin' through that. The way you love them, Willow… The way you love even Ellie, even me… It's what I've always liked the most about ya. And I can't bear ta see ya broken by it."

"Villow… promises, Monty. She vill not be asking Mike for ze details. But you must be telling her one zhing."

"And what's that going to be?"

Willow wished she could smack him through the phone.

"Please be promising…"

No.

"You and Villow vill be meeting face to face again. Sunday, at Mildred's? Trental, he vill not zhrow us out, not if ve are customers zhat pay. Zhis is good idea, and so zhis is order. No back-takings!"

Another static crackle, full of sighs and longing.

"… Tell ya what, Pixiedust. There's a train station down in Winnipeg, I think. I'll look for ya there a hundred days from now. That's plenty of time for me ta get my feet back again. It'll be our little secret - Don't breathe a word of it to the others."

Secrets. As if there weren't enough to go around.

"And I swear, there ain't nothin' in this world that's gonna keep me from showin', be it snow or jail or even death, if that's what comes. I'll be there a hundred days from now, Sparks. I can promise ya that."

Willow pulled in her legs and squeezed her eyes shut. Red lines criss-crossed the darkness like stabbing swords.

"Villow hates you, Meathead. So much. She alvays has hated you, and she alvays vill forever still. You stupid jerk!"

Two hundred miles away, she heard Monty kiss the receiver in the rain.

"I love ya too, Twinkletoes."

" _Buonanotte_ , Monty." The Italian was bitter on her tongue. "Vherever you are being."

" _Spokoynoy nochi_ … Svetlana."

The phone was dead before it even hit the floor.


	6. Dead, Not Sleeping

**A/N** \- Almost forgot to mention it, but the Mugga Wuggy story is a real bedtime story my grandpa used to tell me when I was little. I thought it was more universal than this, but several Google searches turned up zip. I guess he made it up, so the rights to that story belong to him.

* * *

" _Yeeeeeee_ haaaww! Aw, wish I had a horse right about now, mate. That's about the only thing that could make this day any better. Ya didn't get this kinda excitement back at Mildred's, that's right sure."

Elliot rolled his eyes and dropped from the fence after him. Poor li'l bugger, Dallas thought. That old green sweatshirt made about as much of a winter coat as those grubby gray sneakers did boots, and they were falling apart so much that when he landed in the drift, the snow soaked into his dirty socks.

But there were no complaints about the cold. Not when they had a roof above their heads these days, even if it was with Mike's creepy old mum. Even Elliot knew when to be grateful. He stumbled from the fence, shivering, and simply grunted, "You can stop twirling that rope above your head like a lunatic, 'mate'. We both know you couldn't lasso a dead moose if it had its hooves stuck in dry cement."

"Oi, you wanna bet'cha beltloops on that, Ellie?" Dallas took off his fedora and shoved it over Elliot's black hair. "Crikey; then it's a good thing the wily pup I'm on the trail of's still kickin' his twiggy legs, eh?"

Elliot tilted the brim up with his forefinger. "Ha ha. Your cockiness is precious, sugarpie. Don't touch me."

"Ahem? Are ze both of you being zaffishintly out of ze way now? Villow is coming zhrough." Without waiting for their reply, Willow grabbed the top of the fence and thrust herself up into a handstand. Stiff like a branch, she stayed poised that way for almost a full minute before shoving off. One front flip, one crunch of her shoes on frosted grass, one fumble with the zipper of her yellow coat (Sure, Mike gave _her_ the coat), and the three of them were racing across yet another empty backyard.

"Clear!" shouted Dallas, hurtling the hedges on the other side. "C'mon ya li'l devil, ya can't hide yaself from ol' Seeker forever!"

Elliot jumped too, only to slam chest-first into the branches. " _Oof_! I still don't see why _Mike_ got to take the tranquilizer pistol. Why does he even keep one of those around? I of all people deserved it, seeing as I had dibs."

"And he had speedy fingers, eh? Hustle your scrawny bunyons now or we'll lose 'im for sure."

Willow clapped as she came racing up. "Come, come! Using quick feet now, little students of Villow. Ve vill be making ze gymnasts out of you yet, if you are only believing. And zhen tonight ve begin looking for new work job."

"Right you are, beauty. 'Bout time we started swingin' our way up the ladder again! Another couple days and I'd've gone insane."

"Villow vouldn't have let zhat happen to you, Dally."

"Mmf. Let all records declare that the only reason I bothered to show up for this at all was to try out that gun." Elliot scrambled off the hedges as Willow backflipped over his head (handspringing a dozen times across the snow and landing expertly on her feet, of course – Freakin' glory, she was something). Dallas's hat kept tipping forward over Elliot's eyes, and as they ran out to the sloping road, he snatched it away and plopped it on his own head again.

"Did you even hear me?" Elliot puffed. He made an enormous attempt to shove the hair away from his left eye, only for it to flop back down. "I should've gotten the tranq gun because-"

"I know, I know." Dallas stuck his tongue out at Willow. "'Cuz ya just can't let that monster hurt Sydney, eh crackerjack?"

"No!" Elliot shot back, but he didn't have another retort. His battered shoes skidded on a patch of black ice in the street, and Willow grabbed him by his hood before he could tumble down the hill.

"Zeriously Ellie, if she vere not stinky old lady and you vere not lacking more sex-desire hormones zhan ze panda bear, Villow vould be zhinking zhat you vere having crushing upon poor Sydney."

"Tall glass a' water, ain't she, mate?"

For the first time since their hunt had begun that morning, his bony face turned a color other than snowy white. It went scarlet, fast. "That- that is the stupidest thing I have heard for a month, and we spend all day around Mike. I don't have a crush on his stupid mom. I'm maybe seventeen – fifteen – All right, I'm probably thirteen, if we're absolutely completely honest. And she's, what, forty-seven? Fifty-five? She has wrinkles and her hair is melting from black to gray."

"Don't have a crush on the ol' gel, eh? My bootlaces." It was Dallas's turn to slip in ice as they turned onto the main road of the neighborhood; he fell back on his rear and slid about two meters down the sidewalk. "You tried ta kidnap her. Four times! This week!"

"I would hardly consider my dragging her into one _single_ closet when you were trying to smother us with bug repellant to be a kidnapping scheme. Also, though I excuse you for your being entirely oblivious to me as per usual, for your information I have attempted to kidnap her seven times since Sunday. Ugh. This is stupid. You're stupid, and I detest you. Why I even let myself get dragged into this foxhunt remains a mystery. Especially as I was under the impression that you didn't want us bratty kids getting in 'your' way."

"You read my lips, sugarbeet – If I'd a' had my way, ya'd be home chowing cereal and fizzlin' out your brain with Saturday-morn cartoons."

"It's Wednesday."

"Elliot, none of us vere making you to come. Shut up all ze complainings now."

"None of you, bah." Elliot made a grab for Dallas's arm. Giving in to his demands, Dallas allowed the scrawny teen to scramble up his back. "Surely, tootsie roll, I would much prefer to be home hurling chunks as Freedom-Prevention Syndrome minced up my insides."

"Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome," Dallas corrected. "S'my word – ya could at least try gettin' it right when you're speakin' ta me, eh."

Willow cartwheeled over a branch on the sidewalk. "And zhen Sydney could be taking nice care of you, holding back your hair as you zhrow up and all of ze such zhings."

"Willow Dodger Smith, if we had a cube of butter right now-"

Dallas cleared his throat as they reached another street and hovered like flies. "And you're sure that Max and Mike are closin' in on us now, Wil?"

" _Da_ ," she said, leaping up to swat snow from the stop sign's top. "Villow is feeling zhem just in zhat right way around corner up forward. Moving fast – vithin car, I vould zhink."

Elliot bopped Dallas on the head. "So much for 'Seeker'."

"Hey, so maybe Monty's distance is still screwin' up my signal an' now I always lose at hide and seek. Hairy, fat deal. Don't get to teasin' or I'll buck you off."

Monty. Poor, stupid, lost little Monty, running around in the west somewhere, so far away that between the four of them, only Dallas could pick up on his telltale flare of forehead prickles anymore.

"Oh, like you'd dare."

Dallas flipped Elliot over his shoulders and sent him rolling in the snow beneath the stop sign. He scrambled to his knees, grasping for snowballs. Before he'd managed to shape one, a chunky pink and green car shuddered around the corner. A window scrolled down as the Volkswagon (Monty's word) ground to a stop. "Hey guys."

"Mike," Willow greeted without enthusiasm.

"G'day, ol' timer," said Dallas, waving with his hat past the boy and at the elderly man in the passenger's seat. Maximus snorted and pulled the pastel quilt up to his neck.

Elliot hurled his snowball. Mike snapped up his palm too late. White powder exploded all over his chest. "Aw, c'mon," he protested, dusting off the steering wheel. "And this after I gave my only coat to Willow?"

"Villow zhanks you. Is varm coat, even if having ugly color."

"Hey." Mike pointed a finger gun at her. "Don't dis. Gold is cool, and I like it."

"I'll bet ya do, tiptop," muttered Dallas under his breath.

"Nice beetle," Elliot said, yanking open the rear door but not following Willow in. "Very '60s. You borrow that off old Grandma Kittens up the street?"

"Kind of, yeah. Hop in." Mike pointed down the frosty road. "Archie just called to say he saw him duck into that one grocery store. Sun Ray's. I figured we couldn't catch him before he moved again without this."

The sarcastic smirk dropped off Elliot's face. "Michael Dunn, you did not just walk up and steal a beloved prize Volkswagon from your blind and paraplegic neighbor."

Mike did not reply, and Elliot took a step back. "What, seriously? You must be kidding me. Even I haven't attempted to steal a car just yet. How exactly did I get beaten by little goody two-shoed-"

"Ellie, you can have your identity crisis later." Dallas scooped Elliot in his arms and tossed him into the flashy pink seats beside Willow. He climbed in after, and Mike rocketed off the instant the door slammed shut. For a long two minutes, silence.

"Hope ya didn't mind my splittin' out on ya back at ol' Maple," Dallas finally said, placing his hat between his knees. "Swore I saw the green a' his shirt 'round the hedges. Turns out it was just Ellie."

Elliot crossed his arms. "I don't know how you made that mistake. My hoody is emerald. Not his pathetic snot-olive."

Maximus sneezed and snuggled deeper into his quilt. "Who exactly is this kid we're after again?"

"I told you three times," protested Mike, taking the next corner without slowing down.

"What was that? Speak up, ya ninny- I can't hear you. Darn kids today, all their mumbly jumbly ragtag poppycock."

"He's a monster," Elliot said flatly. "A sick and rabid animal who will hurl himself at your face and tear off your nose sooner than he'd even look at you."

Dallas glanced to his right. "Oh, and you've met the pup, I s'pose?"

Elliot went cross-eyed. "Well, no. But … my forehead just went to fizzle again. So, maybe?"

To Mike, Dallas said, "Monty an' I caught our first sight a' him once when we took the trash out back at Mildred's. The li'l varmint got away from me then, but it ain't happening a second time, eh. No one makes a fool outta Seeker twice."

He shut his eyes, wondering if Monty ever thought about that afternoon anymore. Out in the alley where the two had tussled with the freak, and then with each other after he'd scampered away from them and left them tangled up in their own limbs. Monty had climbed on top of the dumpster bin, snatched him in a headlock, and claimed his fedora as forfeit. Amidst all his chuckles, Dallas hadn't had the breath to deny him, and poor little Monty had strutted about with it for the rest of the day, sticking out his chest and calling "Ayo, hie ho, kangaroos, tally forth or some rotty carcass, eh!"

… Monty had always wanted a hat. Dallas should've let him keep it. Actually, there were a lot of things Dallas should've given Monty. The last slice of that carrot cake Zoey had brought them on Halloween. Lemonade from that little girl's homemade stand. Some help mopping the floor. A little attention once in awhile. A single thank you for bucking up and working hard. Maybe if he'd realized his family loved him, he wouldn't have run away.

"I zhink it's sad." Willow placed her palm against the window. "He had to be coming from somevhere. Vhere are his parents? Do zhey not care for him?"

Oh, thanks heaps, sheila. That helped.

"We don't have parents," Elliot pointed out. He kicked Maximus's seat. "Unless you count this sagging dinosaur corpse over here."

Maximus turned around. "If you have a problem with the way I've been raising you ungrateful louses, all ya nits can say it to my face. Back in my day, we kids got raised on yardsticks and hand-scrubbing before dinner. _Achoo_! I ask you- Who, despite living in a grubby old park, washed all your clothes and combed the leaves from your hair every day? Who killed the snake that nearly bit your sorry ankle straight off just before it could sink in its fangs? Who helped you clean your mouth and let you throw up in his lap the day you stumbled into that giant spider's web? Who swapped sleeping bags and always took the one with the broken zipper and a slit down at the toe?"

Elliot grinned. "That last one was Captain Bugbite over here."

"It was a scary beetle," Dallas said defensively.

"You guys have me," Mike insisted, scooting past a white car and shifting lanes. "I love all of you."

Willow elbowed Elliot in the shoulder. "And ve love Sydney too."

"Oh shut up, you miserable personification of a glitter pen. I will stab you in a vital artery."

Mike sighed. "Anyway, you remember that horse I got for Maximus's race last month? From Zoey's cousin Jessica's cousin's farm?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Well, he's that cousin." Mike muttered a soft prayer about God allowing the light on Spruce and Pepperdrive to let him through without turning red, just this once. It didn't, and he slammed on the brakes to the smacks of Dallas and Willow's foreheads against leather seats. Elliot wasn't even that fortunate. He pitched forward almost into Mike's lap.

"Dagnabit! Get out. I'm taking my turn at the wheel. Who taught you how to drive, ya pie-kneed nincompoop?"

Mike muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'Frito's job', but before Dallas could decide if those were really the words, Mike plunged on. "His name is Ezekiel Foster. And you remember that girl who showed up at Mildred's the day you guys got fired? The Latina with the freckles and the short brown hair?" He hesitated, then added, "Courtney Ross?"

Dallas didn't, but he nodded anyway.

"He's her boyfriend."

"I know Courtney," Elliot said, scowling in the rear-view mirror. He had both hands clamped over his temples, and the furious glint in his blue eyes said that a storm of static fuzz had swept across his brain. Dallas put his forefingers against his lip, staring back at his reflection. Almost never did one of them pick up on memories that the others did not. So why were _Elliot_ 's ones of this 'Courtney' so intense? The day she'd come into Mildred's, Elliot had been tucked away in the kitchen helping Willow grill sandwiches and mix up soup.

And getting strangled by Monty, but that was beside the point. Dallas himself had been the head waiter in the sorry old diner, and he still couldn't match a face to the name.

Willow had a more important question to ask: "Vhy does sad girl date freak boy zhat is not even fully human?"

"Beastality fetish?" Elliot offered, still curled up in a ball between them. "I presume he's human enough to swap spit with her if she so desires, and not human enough to ever consider leaving her. Well played, Ross."

"Eww," Mike whined.

"Hormone-drugged teens these days! The freak has saliva that could melt the yellow off a school bus, ya snothead – remember? She won't be kissing him anytime soon."

"But _surely_ she'd be resistant to it by this point. Hmm. Which other of his bodily fluids do you think-"

"That's it!" Maximus smacked the ceiling of the Volkswagon with his cane. "I want out! _Achoo_!"

Mike drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting impatiently for the stoplight to blink to green. It still didn't. He said, "I don't think I'd call it dating, exactly. He's kind of like her pet that she brings along to all her social events."

"This pit just keeps getting deeper," Elliot said, and smothered a round of chuckles in his knees.

"Never mind – it's not important. I'm not banking on Courtney showing up, hence the reason I suggested we play dogcatcher today. She doesn't get off work until three, and heaven forbid she actually request a _lunch break_ and do something that isn't according to schedule. I mean, could you imagine?" He slammed his palms on the dashboard. "Turn green, darn you and your eternal soul! I hope you melt in the junkyard scrapheap without any brave little toasters to save you!"

"Mikey, please do not be yelling at ze poor light. You are veird."

"And the li'l dingo is feral in the first place because…?"

Mike tilted his voice into a sarcastic falsetto. "He isn't feral, Dallas. He's a semi-recovered half-feral, and she fixed him all by herself, see? It was all her."

"We're done talking about this," Elliot said, his own voice pitching up.

"Good," Mike said, "because we're here."

"Here?" Dallas frowned out the window. "We didn't move."

"I'm dropping you off. This stupid light is broken. Quick – go, go! The grocery store's just up the street and around the corner. You know the place. I'll meet you guys there when I park the car."

Willow popped open her door and rolled out like a ninja. "You too, Maxi," she said as Elliot and Dallas unloaded with a little more dignity.

"Your brains have turned to porridge if you think I'm running around in that snow. Even if my brittle bones would hold up for that, I'll remind you that I've caught a cold. From _you_ , if memory serves right. _Achoo_!"

"Yes, yes, next time Villow is playing in ze snow, she vill not do it nakedly. Her sorries, _da_?"

"My sincerest apologies, ol' timer." Dallas took the quilt away and unclicked Maximus's seatbelt. "Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome's a nasty bite, eh? Back in the neighborhood you were always just a street away, but who knows how far Mike'll have to drive to park the iron pony."

"Apparently nowhere!" Mike shouted, throwing his hands at the windshield. "You know what? I'm running it. I don't care how much I have to pay."

"Do not be daring, Mikey!"

Elliot smirked as Dallas staggered away from the car, with Maximus clutching his back and seething. "He wouldn't. Our little golden boy's much too good and noble for that."

"Freaking. Watch me."

"C'mon, kookaburras." Dallas nodded up the street. "Gotta hustle like 'squitos. Ain't no tellin' how many boxes an' walls the li'l bugger could've dissolved with his pretty spit-show by now."

They left Mike soliloquying "To be, or not to be?" and took off down the road. Maximus complained the whole way about being jostled, so when they finally ducked inside the store, Dallas dumped him in a shopping cart and passed him off to Elliot.

"You have to be yanking my leg," he groaned as Maximus scrambled up to his knees.

"I am not a sack of potatoes, dagnabit!"

"Cock an ear, two-bit. The mutant freak an' I've had this date planned for a month, eh." Dallas uncurled the lasso from his shoulder, listening for screams about acid and animal control. There were none. "Li'l scruff stood me up once before, but this time around he ain't goin' nowhere. I'm plannin' ta take him out dancin', but that's not happenin' if I got Maxi pinned ta my spine like a burr, is it now?"

Elliot sighed and placed his hands on the handlebar. "It's pathetically ridiculous how much I've done for your ego."

"You, Max, an' Mike are the cavalry, so that means you're ta keep well outta my way unless ya know you got a clear shot at the bloke. Willow?" Dallas pointed at her and then flicked his thumb back towards his chest. "You're with me, koala bear. Your gymnastics'll only be a help."

She shivered despite her coat. "You are being sure? Villow is more of a … dodger, if you vill pardon ze pun. Not so much being as a fighter. If her face is melted in ugly pieces by end of ze day, she vill blame you _so_ hard forever."

He slung an arm around her shoulders. "Aw, no worries, sheila. You're just there ta yank me out of harm's way should things wash out that low. I'd protect ya if it came down to my own ruddy rear, you can be sure a' that."

"Mm." She leaned her head against his neck. "Zhanking you, Dallas. I zhink."

Elliot chuckled and made a few retching noises into his hands. "And you said my love life had issues."

Willow stomped on his toes, and Dallas pushed her away. "Cut it out, Ellie."

Maximus propped his chin in his hand, elbow on the cart. "Huh. Ya darn kids these days. I will have no incest in this family. _Achoo_! Back in my day, we never once … Actually, forget I brought it up."

"Honestly, if I wanted to be sick to my stomach today, I could toss you a splash of my blood and hitch a ride with Mike up to Zoey's. Your flirting is almost as bad as watching the way he play-"

"Ellie." Dallas pointed into the candy aisle. "Go. Pick yourself out a souvenir."

"All right, all right." He lifted his fingers from the bar in the world's laziest attempt at a shrug and then started pushing the cart – and the mumbling Maximus – away. "I suppose while you two miscreants run around like you're five, I'll be the adult here and grab some cereal and bananas. Just yell when you want our help and I may be interested in saving you. I do really want to try out my new tranq." He made a _hang loose_ sign as he left.

Dallas ground his teeth. "I don't need help. Least of all yours. Just stay outta my limelight and don't steal the final shot from under my nose, eh."

"Ha!" As they reached the shelves, Maximus gave a swipe of his cane, knocking a box of graham crackers to the ground. "Don't get too cocky for your hat now, ya darn whippersnapper."

"Um, sir-" stammered an employee stacking shelves.

Him? Cocky? Oh, they were certainly the ones to talk. If they called _him_ cocky, Monty must be an absolute rooster. Anyone who thought he was too good to say good-byes had to be.

"Oi! Holler if ya find him, mates! The pup is mine, y'get?"

Just before the two vanished down the cereal aisle, Elliot slipped the barrel of the tranquilizer gun out from his hoody pocket so that Dallas could catch a glimpse. Freaking- The little stickyfingers must've snatched it from Mike's bag when the car had jolted at the stoplight. Dallas shook his head.

"So?" Willow set her hands just behind her hips and surveyed the cupcake stands and check-out lanes. "Vhere are ve to be searching at first?"

"Hmm. Well, I reckon the meat department, eh. S'where I'd pack it if I had a cravin' for blood an' flesh."

Willow waved to the confused employee at the graham crackers. "Excusing Villow, but have you been seeing-"

"No." Dallas yanked her back. "Sheila, are you coconuts? This is a big game hunt. You don't just _ask_ where you can find a ten-point buck. That's part a' the fun, see."

"But Villow zhought ze goal here-"

He released her arm and tapped his knuckles against his chin. "Now, he's part animal, so doubtless he can sense danger. Right likely he'll bolt once he smells our boots, eh. I hope you like playin' Hide and Seek, Wil. In a store a' this size, it could easily take half an hour before we find even a trace of-"

"Zhere he is."

Dallas lurched around. Sure enough, about four aisles left of the one Elliot and Maximus had disappeared down, Ezekiel had scaled a stack of shelves and barricaded himself on top among a nest of chip bags and Keebler cookie packages. Yeesh, what a creepy bugger. Pointed teeth flashed when he snarled. His brown hair had come back in light patches that didn't quite cover the liver spots on his scalp. Either Courtney or his dad had fitted him a new black and white sweatshirt since Zoey's e-mail last night, but it was already riddled with holes down the front and showing patches of pale green skin beneath.

Two other employees, dressed in orange aprons, had gathered at the base of the shelves, trying to coax him down with marshmallows. Ezekiel wouldn't be moved – after all, he had Fudge Stripes. Well. That had been simple enough. Which was rather … disappointing, actually. Dallas would have preferred a good hunt. At least he'd gotten to race through Mike's cozy little neighborhood. Fun while it'd lasted.

Willow touched the sleeve of his corduroy jacket. "Ve must do zhis carefully so ve are not to be scaring him avay."

"Righto." Dallas lifted his loop of rope in the air. "You're mine, bloody devil!"

Ezekiel swiveled around, one mittened hand raised in a fist, fangs bared to answer the challenge. And instantly turned pale like a moon. He snatched one of the chip bags and hurled it Dallas's way. "Dallas," Willow protested, but he only grinned and charged. Both employees raised their hands to chest level and backed off at his approach.

"G'day, mates," he said, tipping his hat. "Mind if I tango up there with the dingo baby for a few?"

"Uh." The dark-skinned girl glanced at the redheaded boy beside her, who only shrugged. "Animal control won't be here for another thirty minutes, so… Knock yourself out, I guess? Our new manager is pretty chill."

"I get off my shift in five and am honestly past the point of caring," the boy said, and walked off.

"Thankie kindly." Tipping his hat a final time, Dallas scrambled up the shelves. "C'mon, sheila – I want ya takin' notes on how a man wrestles this kinda brute to the ground, eh."

"If you be saying so."

A barrage of cookies and half-melted plastic trays bounced off Dallas's head as he heaved himself onto the top shelf beside Ezekiel. Ezekiel, for his part, rushed far down to the opposite end and peered over the edge.

"Don't e'en bother, mate," Dallas taunted, raising his lasso again. "I'll getcha 'fore ya take two steps."

Ezekiel took two steps, turned, and hurled himself across the gap between his shelf and the next. His forepaws made it. His hind legs didn't quite. Ezekiel hissed and paddled furiously at the air as Dallas examined the jump himself.

Oh…

It was a little … high up here, wasn't it?

Puffing, her black hair ruffled in the front, Willow pulled herself up too. "Is zhis how men wrestles zhis kind of brute to ze ground, or is zhis petting zoo?"

"Sh-shut up, sheila. You know I get – _ulp_ – a li'l squeamish over f-fallin' sometimes."

"Villow's hero," she finished dryly. "Vould you be liking her to make ze leap and be pinning him down?"

Privately, Dallas scolded himself for being such a girl. True, this was probably the furthest he'd ever been from the ground, except for that time they'd all climbed on Mike's roof to hurl snowballs at their little golden friend as he walked home from school.

And yeah, from up here the thin lines of grout in the floor tiles grew blurry and faint and far away.

So maybe knocking a tooth loose or breaking a knuckle was a distinct possibility if his footing slipped. But honestly? It wasn't _that_ high. Get over it, Seeker. Your girl's staring at you like some blockheaded waiter just handed her the wrong order. Ol' Max hadn't raised no chicken. Monty would've jumped.

By this point, Ezekiel had clambered onto his new perch and ripped off one of his mittens. He braced himself there, back arched. Blue saliva dribbled between his razor teeth and sizzled into a puddle of brown. At which point it began to burn through the top of the shelf to the cereal boxes below. Nature's creatures had their ways of saying 'Leave me alone', but to that Dallas always said 'Try and make me'.

"Ahh," Willow said, sticking out her lower lip. "Zhat is not right at all. Ze poor boy."

Willow would've jumped too, and no denying that, if she weren't so anxious about the acid-slobbering freak on the other side. In fact, she'd probably do a double flip. So, squaring his shoulders, tugging down his hat, Dallas drew back and readied himself to jump.

"Shame I gotta haul ya back ta yer pop," he called across the gap. With a final great swallow, he… hesitated. "I'd've liked ta string a necklace" – Charge! – "outta your li'l fangs an' claws!"

"No!" Ezekiel shouted and, quite taken aback by the human word, Dallas fumbled a step there at the end. He may have pitched over the side, but just then Willow grabbed his arm and yanked him back and drew him into a warm kiss and…

Yeah, no. Willow grabbed his arm as he pitched over, but the momentum dragged her down with him, and both crashed into the rows of cereal and slid from there to the floor. A child yelped and scrambled back to her mother as a few partially-melted boxes tumbled all around.

"Ugh." The redhaired employee folded his arms. "I am not picking those up."

Dallas floundered back to his feet, slinging his lasso over his shoulder again. Ezekiel was still crouched up there, using his big brown boot to itch behind his ear and looking incredibly cross.

"Oi, so that's the way it's gonna be, eh?" Dallas cracked his knuckles and grabbed the shelf again. Willow flipped up the hood of her yellow parka and stepped back to let him have it.

"Sh-sh-shopping!" Ezekiel snapped, waving the mittened paw around to indicate the entire store. "Of food. P-p-pickynicky Coourt! L-lose off! _Shnrrgrackle ayar ksh._ "

"Yer causin' a disturbance, mate. Somethin's gotta give." Dallas put his fingers on the edge of the highest shelf, and Ezekiel clamped his uncovered paw down and dug his jagged nails into skin. " _Ow_! Crikey-"

"N-no ropes, n-n-no spit. G-gonna h-h-hurt someone, eh?"

Dallas made a lunge for a handful of black and white hoody. "Keep still, ya bloody devil!"

Ezekiel snarled something in reply as he threw himself on Dallas's shoulders ("Dallas!" Willow yelped) but his exact words, if there were any, were drowned out as a new voice erupted across the store: "It turned green, it actually turned green! There is a God! Any luck yet, guys? I hope one of you grabbed my tranquili- OH FLIP, hang on!"

"Dagnabit, Dallas!" shouted Maximus from who-knew-where, and then to Elliot, "Push faster, ya noodlebit! Back in my da- Wait- Oof!"

Clinging to the shelves and trying to swat the stubborn teen off wasn't doing much good. Dallas dropped back to the ground and rolled. This squashed Ezekiel, but not for long. He wriggled free and shot halfway down the aisle – on all fours – heading for the store entrance, before Dallas turned around. Willow flew hard on his heels. At the aisle's mouth, Mike stepped into view while Elliot hovered a few paces behind with the tranquilizer gun.

"I've got him!" Mike crouched down and spread his arms like he fully embraced the acid bath he must have known was coming. It didn't; Ezekiel simply launched himself over Mike's spiky hair. Willow leapt after him, and Elliot fired a dart. Mike hit the floor, down for the count.

"Ellie, are ya flippin' blind?" Dallas hurtled Mike's crumpled body and kept running. "You missed him by a meter, eh!"

Elliot grinned. "Whoopsie daisies."

Willow had managed to tackle Ezekiel. They were going at it now – raking their nails and rolling about – as a small, startled crowd looked on. "Pull out, sheila," Dallas called, twirling the lasso to his right. "I a'ready called dibs on the bugger, an' I don't believe in take-backs!"

The pair broke apart, both staring at one another in horror. Willow slapped her hand. Ezekiel slapped his mouth. He tried to hurl himself at her again, but Dallas threw the rope around his neck and yanked, jerking the half-human varmint to the ground. "Whoop-de-loo-loo! I win!"

"D-Dallas?" asked Willow.

"How exactly does this work again?" asked Elliot.

A few seconds' pause seemed to stretch on for an hour. In slow motion, Ezekiel blinked at the noose around his neck, then blinked up at Dallas. "Um," he stammered, quavering a bit. "P'rhaps I … din't think this quite through, eh?"

Ezekiel grabbed a chunk of lasso in his teeth and bit down hard. Dallas screamed in a key that he would later deny and rushed towards his little, er, siblings. Willow was clutching her wrist, but he grabbed her elbow and Elliot's hood as Ezekiel pursued.

"Dallas!" she yelped again, but he said "Curse it- We left Mike!"

Elliot scoffed, "That's our biggest problem?"

There was a long table covered in candy canes and red-and-green sugar cookies and a whole bunch of other treats themed for winter holidays. Dallas angled their course for it as he shouted, "You shot him with a bloody tranq!"

"Good!"

"In the back!" Dallas glanced over his shoulder. Ezekiel was still pelting after them with wide silver eyes and a dangling tongue, his hands and boots making a pattern like _shff-clop, shff-clop, shff-clop_.

"Even better!" Elliot pointed the gun behind them and fired. Dallas didn't see what he hit, but there was a sudden hiss of steam that made a few shoppers screech.

"B-b-boys?"

"Hold the thought, sheila! Duck!" Dallas released them and lunged beneath the table. He tumbled up in a crouch. Elliot wriggled after him while Willow dove from above like an angel of death. As soon as they were clear, Dallas shoved his shoulder against the table and tipped the entire thing over – just as Ezekiel slammed into the wood. Cupcakes splatted, candles rolled, cookies went flying through the air.

The redhaired employee was standing by the nearest check-out counter. He handed his apron to a lanky boy with thick glasses and a gaping mouth. "Ouch, and first day on the job, no less. Sucks to be you right now."

"My bad, mate!" Dallas called, grabbing his companions again.

Elliot yelped, "What the- My darts! Who stole my darts?"

"Dallas, Villow really-"

The light, happy music that had been filling the grocery store suddenly cut off. A woman cleared her throat over the PA.

" _Attention shoppers, we have a Code Epic, I repeat, we have a Code Epic. Please calmly withdraw to the rear of the building and wait patiently until I call a Code Serene. Our stuntmen are all trained professionals; do not try this at home._ "

Even fleeing for his life from a radioactive mongrel splashed in pink and green frosting, Dallas couldn't hold back his chuckle. "I love this town."

"This should not be my life," moaned Elliot, and tossed the now-useless tranquilizer over his shoulder.

"Dallas!" Willow sunk her nails into his forearm. "Listen to Villow right now!"

He spared her a glance as they dodged behind the banana stand, startling the boy who was hurrying for the building's back. "What's twistin' your chin, sheila?"

"Vhat tvists- Just be looking at my-"

"Oh cripes- Look sharp!"

Ezekiel raced around the corner and tried to turn right, but the momentum carried him too far and into the apple cases. They threw themselves behind the next side of the stand as an arc of blue spittle sailed overhead. As Dallas scooped up an armload of bananas, Elliot peeked around his shoulder and groaned again. "I'm in for it now."

"Elliot, ya frothing dingbat! Darn kids these days, abandoning the old and frail to get in on the action. _Achoo_! What is this – World War I? Back in my day, we looked after our elders twenty-four-seven and we liked it!"

Dallas jerked his head around. "What in Australia?"

Back between the display of oranges and sprinklers spraying vegetables, Maximus was up on one knee in the shopping cart, and he'd rolled his pants leg back to reveal a waffled pattern of diamonds across his pale flesh. He had the curved tip of his cane jabbed into the stomach of the employee girl who'd been stacking graham crackers before. Though he fended her off brutally, that didn't stop her from trying to pull him out. Poor gal. She didn't get paid enough for this, did she?

"You shoved me into the cookie dough bin, dagnabit!"

Elliot sighed. "Evidently I didn't take much pride in my work, considering you're back for more."

"Sir, this is very unprofessional– We have a Code Epic– Could you just-?"

" _Rarrgh_!" Ezekiel exploded over the banana heap, flinging fruit in ten directions at once. Elliot dropped to the floor, Willow handspringed out of the way, but Dallas's first reaction was to raise one banana above his head and whip it back and forth as Ezekiel hit the ground.

"Hey-lo, champ. You play Fetch, don't ya, Zekey?"

"Grill! P-pr-printy! Bad!" Ezekiel jabbed a gnarled green finger Willow's way.

"She sure is." Dallas twisted right to toss her a wink. "Pretty, pretty li'l bad girl, eh?"

She held up her fist. "Villow hates you vith immenseiosity."

Elliot let out a huff as he hid behind her. "I really should hitch a ride up to Zoey's someday."

Snarling what were probably very bad words in feral-devil language, Ezekiel launched himself at Willow again. Elliot yanked her back, slamming them both against Maximus's cart. Dallas threw his elbow into Ezekiel's shoulder. Ezekiel tumbled across the tiles and shed his other mitten in the process. Dirty fingernails flashed.

"Hey! Somebody, snappy here – Wha'da I cage him in?"

"Ya jellybrain! You're only askin' this now? _Achoo_!"

Lady Graham Cracker begged again, "Please, sir, it isn't safe. I don't want to get fired."

The PA clicked on again. " _You're all right, Crystal. Please, continue. This is very entertaining._ "

Too late, Dallas realized that he'd thrown the mongrel smack in the middle between the others and himself; he'd rolled up to his feet now, looking between them all as if trying to figure out who he wanted to murder first. Willow shot Dallas an Ezekiel-esque glare that stung deep. "Oh, so you are finally asking zhis question at all?"

That was what she'd been trying to tell him, wasn't it? Dallas pulled off one of his boots. "Eh sheila, there's a reason I call ya the brains ta my-"

"Wait," said Elliot, peering beneath a curtain of her hair. "Willow, what's wrong with your hand?"

All time went horribly still.

Willow clutched her wrist against her chest. Her eyelids fluttered shut. There weren't tears – Good glory no, this was Willow! – but Dallas felt his heart melt nonetheless as she stammered, "He- he- Ze feral child, he-"

All three of them hollered it at the same time: " _You got bit_?"

Ezekiel threw his arms into the air. "Not bl-bl-blisten! St-stupind!"

"Stupid? Oh, I'll show you stupid a'right, mate!" Dallas lunged forward, the boot lifted high. Ezekiel shrieked and dove to the right. Overbalanced, it was Dallas's time to take a tumble. His jaw caught on the edge of the apple stand and twisted a little to the left.

"He vasn't meaning to! H-he vas scared!"

Maximus grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him (or, more accurately, pulled his cart towards her). "Willow, your hand is blistering!"

Elliot poked out of hiding to give Ezekiel a snarl. Ezekiel, still on his fours, returned it and charged. The look of bravado dropped from Elliot's face. He scrambled behind the cart with Crystal. "No seconds until you've finished firsts!" he protested, raising a shoe of his own. "Clean your plate – Take Willow before me!"

"Hey!"

" _-choo_. Slimeballed little brats these days!"

"No!" Dallas let go of his stinging jaw. Scrambling up, he hurled his boot- clipping the freak on the shoulder. "I need a cage, dangit!"

"H-h-herring! Shpit w-walter on-"

"Paws off my granddaughter, ingrate!" Maximus drew back his cane and smacked it across Ezekiel's chin. He fell back with a yowl, blue and brown acid bubbling down his shirt. Willow drew back her leg, ready to finish him with a sharp kick in the collarbone.

And hesitated.

Dallas tackled Ezekiel, succeeding this time. Not that it was difficult – he was, after all, tall, muscular, fast, (sexy), and heavier, as opposed to Ezekiel's scrawny, sickly frame. The mutated freak whined and kicked against him to no avail.

"Heh." Dallas stuck his elbow in Ezekiel's gut and propped up his hat with the other thumb. "Not so tough flipped on your back like a beetle, are ya? Willow, toss me your parka. Time ta wrap up this present for good."

"Is Mike's only vinter coat…"

"L-leggo! Lagglo!"

"I said toss me the coat, sheila. Right now! Can't you see I've got him?"

Knocking him down was one thing. But keeping him pinned turned out to be another.

"Dagna-"

"Aha, now I see the part where this is fun for me."

Dallas cried out as Ezekiel lurched up and sank his fangs into his ear. "Holy _heck_ that hurts!"

"S-shnargrry, eh," Ezekiel mumbled without loosening his grip. He stuck his claws up Dallas's nose. Spitting, Dallas grabbed the freak's wrists and planted one boot on his stomach. Ezekiel clung on like a living burr.

"Don't suppose any a' you loutfolk got a crowbar handy," he snapped at the others. "Thanks for sittin' on the sidelines spellbound-like, mates."

Elliot twisted his smirk into an expression of feigned surprise, his elbows on the cases of oranges. "I thought you wanted us to keep out of your way. Would you like my help now? Say please."

Willow had her blistering wrist under the sprinklers that kept the vegetables fresh. "J-just be holding out for Villow one second more!"

Maximus simply hurled his cane with a sneeze, and missed.

"If I only had a cage," Dallas moaned again, rolling backwards on the tile. Ezekiel chose to take the blow to the head rather than release his ear and- "Crikey, I think it's boilin' off my li'l hairs there now!"

"Oh, is it really?" Willow spat, finally sprinting towards him like a Valkyrie straight from above. And then, mid-step, she froze. "… Vait! Vait, Elliot- ze shopping cart!"

He looked up. "Huh?"

Maximus held out his arms. "Now your brain is whirring, Willow!"

"Thank you!" cried Crystal, grabbing his wrist.

"Let _go_ , beastie!" Dallas ripped his assailant away, along with considerably more ear than he'd wanted to part with. Ezekiel dropped the bite of skin instantly, his eyes flaring wide.

"Sn-sn-snor-"

"'Sorries' ain't bandages, eh?" He kicked Ezekiel back in the chest, he went sliding along the tile, Willow slammed the cart down over his head. Then both he and she had scrambled on top between the whirring wheels. "Haha! Check an' mate, mate. Slide aside, Kentucky Jones. Auburn County, Manitoba's got a wranglin' new beast-hunter in town, that's what."

"Villow's hero," she repeated, rolling her eyes. Dallas pretended not to notice and winked. She turned away. Below, Ezekiel wailed and thrashed beneath the cart, digging his claws between the diamond-shaped holes in the sides.

"Spit all ya like, kookaburra. Take ya at least fifteen minutes to burn your way through that one, eh?"

" _Shardara snaflag rajareika_!" He began to gnaw on the wireframe. Chuckling, Dallas patted the cart.

"Wil? Can ya make out the numbers on his pretty li'l collarpiece there?"

Lifting one eyebrow, she pointed to her ear. "Villow is zhinking ze acid has gone to your brain. Ei'zher zhat, or you are kidding her."

The first option, then. It really was tickling something fierce now. Dallas rubbed it with his sleeve. "Er… Ellie?"

The smaller boy mimicked Willow's movement, and Dallas pressed his ear a little harder. "Y'aint scared of li'l Zekey, are ya Ellie?"

That made Elliot thrust his fists in his sweatshirt pocket. "Not in the least. But for whatever reason, I happen to like being alive. I want to appreciate every minute I have on Earth before I wake up in Hell."

"Oh, ne'er any of you skimps mind. Ya want somethin' done right around here… At least fetch me Mike's cell phone for the call, El, c'mon."

"That, I can bring myself to do." Elliot loped off, whistling. With a final dirty glance at Maximus, Crystal trotted after him. Dallas gripped the shopping cart and leaned down over the edge. This put him nose-to-nose with Ezekiel, but he seemed more interested in his chewing and merely cast Dallas the stink-eye.

His ear prickled. Yeah, he should probably put some rubbing alcohol on that sooner rather than later.

Ah, well. Them were the risks you had to take in this business.

 _"Attention, patrons, we have a Code Slight Serene. It's rather a lot like its cousin Code Serene Full, except that it has the 'slight' condition in there. Please continue shopping at your own risk (I mean leisure) and have a wonderful rest of the afternoon."_

As shoppers began to feed back into the aisles and wander over to make something of Dallas's catch (Maximus was giving them a real good spin on the story), Willow cleared her throat. Several times.

"Swallow a bowlful a' mosquitos, did ya, sheila?"

"Oh, you could be saying zhat much."

Her sigh made him glance away from Ezekiel. She rubbed her shoulder, not allowing herself to match his gaze.

"It's just being… Ah. Villow is sorry zhat she vas being ze stereotypical girl, Dally. You vere needing her help, and she vas … scared of ze acid boy. And she felt zorry for him too."

Dallas patted her thick sleeve. "Aw, beautiful; don't treat yourself that way. Chins up. You had the idea to cage him in the cart, eh?"

"Ellie vas getting Maxi out of zhere," she pointed out. Her scowl deepened as she took in his ear. "Eugh. Vere you viping all of zhat spit off already?"

"Enough that it ain't itchin' up storms near so bad anymore." Dallas reached up to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Now, you went and slammed the cart over his ugly mug, and don't cut that part out a' your pretty li'l tale."

Finally, Willow smiled. "She did, didn't she?"

He tried to twist around a little more so he could steal their first kiss from that awkward position on their shopping-cart-turned-mutant-trap, but the brightness dropped from her face like liquid rock.

"Villow is still so mad zhat you vere ignoring her screaming all of zhat timing, zhough."

Cripes.

As she peeled his finger from her face, he tried to protest with, "Aw, don't hold it against me that I like ta hear your beautiful voice, Wil."

"Please flirt on your own time," Elliot said, coming back with the phone. Ignoring Maximus and Willow's protests of, "Why didn't you bring _Mike_?" Dallas read out the numbers printed on Ezekiel's collar. Elliot punched them in obediently. But, being Elliot, he then tossed the chunky thing in their general direction and walked off to crush the fallen apples beneath his heel. Of course, Dallas had to lunge forward to catch the phone, and dove straight from the cart in the process.

"Whoopsie."

" _Arasha-gagh h-h-heeemin_ ," Ezekiel insisted. Several chinks in the shopping cart had changed black and melted into … holes. Wider holes, anyway. He'd managed to stick his hand out to the knuckles, swiping claws at empty air as the cage continued to shrivel into pieces around him.

"Mr. Foster?" Dallas stuck his tongue out at Ezekiel as he returned to his perch alongside Willow. "The name's Dallas Smith. I got yer sook of a boy under my shopping cart here, eh mate? Get on, you." He thudded the heel of his boot against the side of the cart, aiming for the freak's desperate fingers, except not really.

"Do not be teasing him. You vill only be making him more upsetful, _da_?"

Dallas held the phone down so that Foster could pick up on Ezekiel's grumbled snarlings. When he returned it to his ear, there was still no response.

"Mr. Foster?" he tried again.

"What did you say your name was?"

The accent was thick, which probably shouldn't have surprised Dallas as much as it did, what with Foster living far out on his farm and all.

"That's Dallas Smith, mate. Sir. Ya raised a good, tough li'l nugget, didn't ya? Took me all mornin' ta wrangle that buckin' roo down. Ha'en't had a challenge like that in ages, ha ha."

"… Is Mike aroound somewhere?"

"Y'know Mike? Oh- his phone, righty. Sure is. But he's lyin' about on the job now, eh?" Dallas waved to a couple of store patrons that had come to gawk at his prisoner. "My pal Ellie plugged him in the back and he's down for the count for a bit a' shut-eye longer."

"Where are you now, euh, Dallas Smith?"

"Uh, lessee here." Dallas checked with Willow, then relayed the information through the phone. "Sun Ray's Market. Local grocers, Auburn County right up here in northern Manitoba. At the corner of New Leaf Road and Tardon Street. S'about three or four miles west an' back from Mike's hole in the wall, if that helps ya at all, cockie."

Foster sighed. "I'm soorry. I'm out with the cows now. It will take me at least two hours to get up there. Could you possibly…?"

"Aw, don't you worry 'bout britches, Mr. Foster sir. I won't peel my eyes off his ruddy behind."

Ezekiel let out another growl, which made Elliot growl right back and Willow soothe with shushes.

"If's s'not too much a burden, could you try keepin' animal coontrol from taking him away? Soometimes they're not very nice to him, 'specially as of late, and they upset his anxiety soomething awful, eh?"

He saluted, even though it was a pointless gesture. "I'll do everythin' I can for your joey, mate. Seeker's honor. We'll take him home to Mikey's. You need the address?"

"No, I knoow the place. And Dallas?"

"Yessir?"

There was a pause, but it was short. "Thank you. Soo much. It really gets up to my head soometimes, taking care of the old place and my family all alone. Well, I have my workers, but soometimes it still feels alone, eh? It gets hard, and you have to wonder, why, God? What happened to me? One day very soon the farm is going to be soold, even though I really doon't want to see it go. It's too much. I was working through the paperwork when Zeke snuck oout, I think, soo it's my fault, eh. Soon I should be able to give him the attention he needs, but until then I still need the help. Soo I thank you again, lots. It's nice to knoow that soomeone hoonestly cares if he comes hoome."

"P-P-Panda Exp-press," Ezekiel said when Dallas hung up and tucked the phone away in his jacket pocket.

Willow cocked her head. "Vhat?"

Ezekiel sighed in the same way his father had. He was looking up at them through the bottom of the cart now, his fingers still intertwined in the steaming black loops of the side. "Coourt. Ney. At. P-P-Pan. Da. Ex. P-press. Eh. W-w-want. See. T-talk."

"Oh." Dallas shrugged. "Sorry, mate. Mike says she's still workin' her shift and don't wanna see you right now. I a'ready called your pop."

He groaned and covered his face with gnarled hands.

"So." Elliot clapped slowly and glanced around. Then he nodded once. "That was my workout for the month. Certainly worth getting off my fridge for. I propose we celebrate by picking up a few cartons of ice cream and agreeing never to repeat this adventure again. It would spoil the delicious memories if we doubled them up." With a second nod, he started to whistle.

"Sorry, El. We gotta look after the poor bit 'til his ol' man swings by ta pick him up."

Willow raised one brow. "Sorry?"

Elliot crossed his arms, interrupting his song on a weird high note. "Perhaps you were not properly informed. Or perhaps you are stupid. You see, this child spits acid."

Dallas glanced up at the sun, then remembered they were indoors. "Crikey- what time'd that gel before say it'd be before animal control showed up? Thirty minutes, weren't it? Twenty? We gotta move out. Willow, can you drag Max away from his admirers? There's a good sheila now."

"A-a-an'mal c-c'trol?" Ezekiel began to thrash again, dropping back into his feral noises. As Willow jumped off, it was all Dallas could do to keep the cart in place. He caught her attention again with a flick of his hand.

"Oh Wil, toss me your parka 'fore you go off. Now; honestly now. And you scamper over here too, Ellie. I want ya crackers lifting up the bin while I pin his arms with that thing."

"Is Mike's coat," she repeated, not moving by a hair. "And ze only vinter vun zhat ve are having between all of us. He vill not be much happy if ve are giving it back halfway dissolved."

Elliot rolled his eyes, plastering on another of his typical smirks. "And if you think I'm sacrificing my hoody for this, you're about to be dead wrong. I can gouge your eye out with my thumbnail."

Dallas groaned. "Aw, cork it. I'll use my jacket. Pity- I got rather attached to it after all these months." He stripped off the corduroy and slid back to the ground, but kept one hand on the cart's wheels and his feet planted on the lip at the bottom. Ezekiel spat acid onto his boot that he pretended not to notice.

"Right." With his free hand, Dallas gave his jacket a great shake. "Flip the cage, one a' ya."

"You are being very sure of zhis?"

"Positively so."

Elliot shrugged. "Let's get one thing straight between us- when I show up at your funeral, it's only for the potatoes and cake."

Ezekiel bucked against his prison, hissing still.

Willow took hold of one corner of the shopping cart. Dallas nodded. She stared at him, stared at Elliot (who joined her with the most reluctant whistling Dallas had ever heard), then hurled the cart into the air and took off flying for Maximus. While Ezekiel sat blinking at this sudden turn of events, Dallas tackled him with his jacket outspread. As his charge struggled, Dallas clamped his arms tight around his middle and got up again.

"Grah! Argh-a-rah gragh!" Ezekiel's head was covered, but that didn't do much to muffle his screams. Dallas heard his pointed teeth clamp on cloth.

"Aw, you're kinda a cute li'l devil, ain't ya?"

"H-h-h-human! I h-human, not a-a-an'mal! Out! O-out!"

Chuckling, Dallas tossed Zeke over his shoulder. Only that bit of jacket and sky blue shirt divided his throat from acidic saliva and clashing fangs now, and he hoped that would be enough. "S'all right, mates," he called to the others; Elliot had joined Willow and Maximus by the apple cases. "Got the li'l freak bundled tight as a bug. Ellie, since you're the tall poppy that went and knocked out Mike, you get to haul 'im back."

"Forget it." He craned his neck, squinting hard. "Oh, drat. Our high-and-mighty friend lives after all."

Ezekiel kicked against Dallas's chest. "N-n-not f-freak, e-e-eh!"

"Course y'aint, mate."

That was when Mike staggered over and stuck his elbow on Dallas's free shoulder. "Aw man, which one of you got us wasted last night? I'm so hungover, I got lost on my way to subspace."

"Eh?"

"Huh?" Mike frowned back at them, then shook his head hard and wheeled away. "Whoa, whoa, this isn't my corridor! Geez, how long was I out? Who's Topside? Where's Mal?"

Dallas waved his hand in front of the teen's face. "Y'all right in the cookies there, mate? You're lookin' loopy still."

"He shot me with a tranq dart! A tranq dart!" Mike gave himself a few slaps in the left eye, which finally seemed to wake him up. Still grunting, he followed Dallas as they started back towards the check-out lanes, trailed by the arguing others. Against Dallas's shoulder, Ezekiel's whole body went rigid.

"B-beau'ful d-d-day for S-ser'geti?"

Mike sucked in a breath. Dallas paused, and someone – judging from the height of the sharp nose it was Willow – ran straight into his back. "Zeke, shut up."

Ezekiel would not be silenced. "Kn-know you are. Who. I kn-know, eh?"

"Who?" Willow asked, pronouncing the 'w' for maybe the first time.

The little freak tried to sit up; from the feel of it, he managed to push himself up on his elbows, and the tone of his voice suggested he was giving Mike a weird look beneath his cover. "N-not tell 'em, M-M-Miiiike?"

Mike grabbed the Lucky Charms from Elliot's hands and slammed it onto the check-out counter. "Don't you dare, Zeke."

"Dare what, mate?" Dallas asked, but in a whisper as he handed the bills to the flustered new kid on the other side.

"L-let Zeke free d-d-down going, an' I t-tell," Ezekiel whispered back.

Dallas groaned. "Fat chance a' that, li'l bugger. I think I'm about ta go deaf any minute now 'cuz a' you. My ear's aflame."

"B-but you're…" Ezekiel searched for the right word as Willow took the cereal back. Giving up, either because he couldn't remember the term in English or because Mike was seething down his neck or simply out of spite, he finally said, "Mike."

"Right, 'cuz that makes a bloody heap a' sense. C'mon, roos. We're pushin' out."

Ezekiel chuckled dryly beneath his cover. "Kn-know somethin'. N-not Homes-s-schooled for f-f-f-f-first try, eh? You should… w-watch… watch TV with m-me, eh? Watch T-T-Total D-Drama."

Mike grabbed a shopping basket and clubbed Ezekiel over the head with it. "Ow," he sputtered, jolting up. "H-h-haven't ya f-finished 'n-nough a' Z-Zeke?"

Dallas turned, knocking the basket away as Mike tried to come at Ezekiel with it a second time. Seeing as his hands were mostly full of struggling weirdo, he couldn't shove the scrawny teen back the way he wanted to and was left to simply glare. "What is your _deal_ today, wallaby?"

Mike refused to answer that. The drive home passed in absolute silence, except for Elliot's infuriating whistle and Maximus's occasional sneeze. Willow rubbed her hand the whole time and wouldn't show it to anybody.

They made it back to the Dunn residence, nestled at the base of the cul-de-sac hill like it too was keeping secrets. A scowling Mike kicked them out of the Volkswagon so he could return it to Mrs. Woodin a few streets over. Maximus retired to his usual chair in the living room, and Willow marched inside too. Fine, then. He'd let his sugar glider alone until she had the chance to simmer down.

For his part, Dallas found their discarded baseball in the frosted roots of the oak out front and entertained Ezekiel with a few throws, which seemed to offend and amuse the little mongrel at the same time. Very soon the cover was peeling in sizzling brown strips. Elliot came out to watch on occasion, but spent most of his time ducking in and out of the garden shed and the garage with strange items like the jars of spare change, Mike's laptop, a packet of Oreos, and Willow's sandy-colored dress. Dallas, being Seeker, kept a running tally so he could impress the others with his tracking abilities when they started asking where it all went.

Finally, Dallas hurled the baseball across the street and plopped down in the snow as Ezekiel chased after it. His throat stung with cold. His torn ear had long stopped hurting, but by now was scabbed over with blood and bits of half-melted flesh. His corduroy jacket had suffered a few holes too, but nothing a bit of thread and a woman's steady hand couldn't fix. It was his lost lasso he was most unhappy about. Ah, well. Its sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

Ezekiel charged back into the yard, flinging up snow, the baseball latched in his teeth. He tackled Dallas full force, and they spent a good minute or two wrestling one another around and butting heads. He was probably just playing, but when he sunk his jaws into Dallas's ankle… Well, simply put, he washed both it and Ezekiel's mouth thoroughly with snow.

Mike returned on foot with an enormous basket of roses. Elliot wandered up to examine them curiously for a minute, then lifted one palm. He nudged the basket from Mike's hands so all the flowers spilled in the snow. Then he wandered off again, whistling.

"Why did you do that?" Mike asked, kneeling down to gather them up. Ezekiel snatched one in his mouth and crouched low, begging for a game of Tug O' War. Mike obliged. Since Ezekiel was clearly stronger, Dallas came to Mike's rescue. Together they reclaimed the half of the stem that held the petals.

"Aw, you goin' easy on us, tazzie? You gettin' hungry, maybe? Oi, Mike. Watch Zekey for a mo' while I grab him some grub. Here." He pulled the baseball from his pocket and chucked it Mike's way. "Play nice, sooks."

"Hey, Elliot!" Mike tossed the ball to his left hand behind his back and flicked it into the air. "You wanna play?"

Elliot returned to the garage without gracing them with a reply. Mike and Ezekiel glanced at each other, then both pulled wicked grins and raced after him. There was a yelp and a string of curses before Mike charged back into the yard, Elliot flung over his scrawny shoulder. Ezekiel blazed the trail. Dallas brushed snowflakes from his hands and, grinning to himself, bounced up the porch.

He checked on Maximus in the living room first. The old man had dragged the big brown armchair over to the front windows so he could watch the two boys (plus mutant referee) grapple at one another and pretend that he was too absorbed in his Charles Dickens to notice. Dallas peered through the glass as Elliot slammed Mike against the ground and plopped down on his stomach. Immediately, Ezekiel tackled him into a snowbank. Then Mike was up, dragging Ezekiel away by the boots, and Elliot launched himself on Mike's back and the whole process would start all over. Dallas wondered if he should step in and break them up before someone got hurt.

For what might have been the very first time, he decided not to. They'd just go at it again the instant he turned away.

Dallas found Willow in the kitchen, wearing Mike's typical turquoise shirt and blue jeans like that didn't creep her out. She was sitting in front of the desktop computer, one tight little fist against her cheek. Her other fingertips drummed on the counter (He'd say nails, but the pretty violet things had been bitten to stubs since the beginning of time).

He leaned against the garage door and tipped up the brim of his fedora. "Whatcha doin' there, daisycakes?"

She peeled back one side of her headphones. "I am vatching ze Total Drama reality show zhat ze feral boy was muttering about on ze official website. It's muching sad, I zhink. He vas being so small and alone back zhen. And vhen looking at him now… Villow is understanding vhy ze Courtney girl zhought he needed to be saved. Zhere vas so much he never got learned."

For two more episodes, Dallas just stared down at her arm, with its wrist all blistered and scabbed with red and black. Swallowing a hefty lump, he at last removed his hat and placed it to his chest. "For all your amazing gymnastics skills, it's a shame you weren't just a li'l bit faster, sheila. You were a real star out there today, and you shouln't've had a' take that burn. You told me upfront that ya didn't wanna be involved in the fightin', and I… I… Er, well, and ya threw yourself in headlong anyway, just for me. I really appreciate that."

She wrenched her eyes away from the screen. "Please stop ze bringing mentions onto my hand. I am not vishing to be zhinking about it. My feelings vere very hurt zhat you vould not pay attention to Villow zhough she called to you many times, so she gave up. Because if you vere not caring, zhen she vould not be caring eiz'her."

Dallas was still trying to gather his guilty thoughts into something coherent when Elliot came in and hauled himself up onto the fridge. Dallas cocked both brows. "I thought ya were playin' Fetch with Mike and Zekey. Didn't put them both outta their misery already, did ya?"

Elliot mumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry?"

He repeated the mumbling in a slightly higher volume.

"Use your words, Ellie. I know ya can."

"Mike was talking to Foster – he just pulled up in his pick-up. Just as well, because I threw the ball into the roof gutter and Zeke showed no interest in climbing up there for it." Elliot wriggled into the crack between the fridge and the overhead cupboards. "Don't bother trying to get it back. He got his acid all over it and it was starting to dissolve."

Dallas grinned. "Aw, that's right considerate of you ta warn me 'fore I went to grab it, mate."

Elliot blinked, then smacked himself in the forehead and slid his palm down his nose. "That was. Ergh, I'm going soft."

"'Soft' is right. You're squishier than pizza dough, eh. You're gonna get left with a twisted spine one of these days if you keep crammin' yourself up there under the cupboards like that, ya wriggly inchworm."

Willow's response was a simple grunt. After another moment, her video gave way to rolling credits. She tapped a key on the keyboard and scrolled down to the next. "Hold on," he said, grabbing her shoulder. "There, on the slidey bar there below- Glorified dingo-paste, that's ol' Zoey!"

Dully, Willow clicked on the title 'Backstabbers Ahoy'. As the screen flashed through the opening song, both of them yelped, "Wait, there's Mik-"

Suddenly the computer – and all the kitchen lights – went black. "Vhat?" Willow sputtered, jerking back in her chair. It tipped, overbalanced, and only Dallas's swift hand kept it from plunging to the floor. Lot of good that did; before he knew it, Willow rolled backwards over his arm and came up in a crouch, bristling nearly as much as Ezekiel.

"Hey," shouted Dallas, "who cut out the bloody power, eh?"

In the light of the half-curtained windows, they both looked accusingly above the fridge. Elliot was flicking Sydney's lighter on and off, but when he sensed their gazes on him, he sat up. "Are you serious right now? As flattered as I am, I have to point out that I'm all the way over here. How could it possibly have been me? And what reason would I have for keeping you from learning whatever truths about us and our past that you can manage? I want to learn my sins as much as anyone."

On cue, the back door to the kitchen slid open. Mike came in spinning his switchblade and snapped his fingers. "Aw, shoot. It's snowing up in Skinhill bad right now. Interference. If that weren't enough, every power cable on the street just went down. But I wouldn't worry; the generator should kick in in a few minutes." He shrugged. "Whatcha gonna do?"

Willow grabbed the yellow parka and stomped out to the front yard, banging the door shut in her wake. Dallas lifted one hand to Mike, his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. "This close, mate. This close."

"What to?" Mike asked, feigning innocence and failing miserably. He needed to learn a thing or two from Monty about a poker face – his darting eyes were obvious even just in the faint glow from his aquarium tank.

Of course, the one time Monty would have been good for something, he wasn't within a hundred miles. Fancy them apples.

Once again, Elliot spared Dallas from his conflicting emotions by sliding down from the fridge. "Where's Sydney?"

Mike frowned at the lighter as Elliot capped it and stuffed it in his pocket. "Hm?"

"Sydney," he repeated, bouncing on his heels. "I want to talk to her. Where is she?"

"I think Kenny took her out to lunch while we were gone. If she isn't upstairs, then they probably went to the park or something."

Elliot curled his lip and stalked off after Willow. Dallas set his hat back on his head. "Oi Mike. I think I found a question you'll finally answer me."

"Uh, sure. Hit me."

"Don't it bother you that Ellie likes yer mum? Don't give me that look- He's got the dazzles for her like the king a' rabbits."

"Oh." Mike looked more surprised to hear it put that way than he did at the news itself. He took a seat on the edge of the kitchen table. "Have you heard the story of the Mugga Wuggy?"

Dallas checked through his memories. There weren't many, so it didn't take long. "Don't reckon I have, eh."

Mike rubbed his elbow. "Well, my mom used to tell it to me every night before I went to sleep. It goes like this: There was once a beautiful woman whose husband would always come home drunk and beat her and her son. On Christmas Eve, she and her son went to the pound to adopt a dog that could protect them, or at least offer them some comfort when times were hard. But when the manager heard that they wanted a protective creature, he led them to Room 13, where they found not a dog but a big, green, furry triangle crouched behind the bars, staring at them from its place on top of the washing machine, like it sat on a throne."

"Uh-"

"It's a bedtime story. It doesn't have to make sense. Just listen. So the manager showed them how protective and loyal a pet it was by yelling 'Mugga Wuggy, table' and it threw itself on the table in the corner with fur flying and teeth gnashing, and it ate the whole table to splinters. Then the worker yelled 'Mugga Wuggy, washing machine' and it threw itself on the washing machine and gnashed and chomped and ripped it to bits. It's just a story, so it can do that."

"Ha. Sounds like Zeke, eh?"

"Shh." He raised a finger on each hand just as the generator rumbled up and the lights flickered back on. "Mike's talking. So the woman brought it home and wrapped it in a bow and put it under the Christmas tree, and when her drunk husband came back he asked her what it was. She said it was a Mugga Wuggy. 'What?' he asked, not sure he'd heard right, and she repeated, 'It's a Mugga Wuggy'. Then he snorted and swayed and raised his fist, and he yelled 'Mugga Wuggy, my foot'."

Mike chuckled, which caught Dallas off guard. Sadism seemed more like Monty or Elliot's type of thing. The golden boy? Not so much. As Ellie had made known already, he was just too good and noble for that.

"After that night he repented of his wrongs. He never picked up another glass of alcohol, he never raised his voice or his hands, and they were a whole family again. And they were protected from harm forever and ever." He nodded into the front room. "Elliot's the Mugga Wuggy."

"… Okay… An' that don't bother you?"

Mike thought about it for a minute, swinging his legs. "No. Not really. Sure, both he and it are impulsive and instinctive, but they're still protectors at their deepest core. Mom never said this part to me, but I always kind of saw the story being like, once Kurt found out how the Mugga Wuggy worked, he maybe tried to use it against his wife and kid just one time when he got really angry…"

His smile grew distant. "But the Mugga Wuggy refused to attack them because they'd rescued him from the dark, cold pound. They treated him with love and even fed him the gingerbread cookies that were supposed to be for Santa, because he was even better than Santa…" Mike's voice trailed to quiet. He looked down at his hands and turned them into fists. "He was the guardian angel that her son had been praying for his whole life."

"Ah, but the Mug-Wug never had a crush on the ol' sheila, eh? Ellie's got a whoppin' crush, roo. On yer mum."

Mike stuck out his tongue and poked up his eyebrows. "In that case, incest seems to run thick in this family."

"Eh? Between who else? Me an' Wil?" Dallas frowned. "We ain't related by a long shot, mate. I'm big, tan, and sandy blond. She's a white slip with dark hair and darker eyes like a li'l koala. Can't say I spot the resemblance."

"But you can't date her," persisted Mike, grasping a hand at the air as if stretching for straws. "I mean, come on. Your shipping name would have to be 'Willas', and I can see so many problems with that already."

Dallas narrowed his eyes and leaned against the table. "Mike. You were on a reality show, eh? Over the months, I've gathered that the fame stuff's all the kind a' thing your heart's grown 'ccustomed to. But this ain't a reality show, and I don't so much as care what we get called, particularly when there's no one to call us anythin' at all."

Mike coughed something into his hand that sounded like 'The tuba'. Dallas continued to stare at him, keeping his palm pressed to his cheek.

"I said I'm glad that 'Zoke' sounds adorable and is easy to pronounce," Mike said.

"Why d'ya even bother? Y'know somethin' real, mate? I'm done with you and yer infinite spiral a' secrets. You make me sick as a dingo." Dallas got up. "When you decide you're ready ta be a man and quit toyin' with our feelin's, you know where ta find us."

Mike watched him storm past with sad eyes, but Dallas could tell when he brightened even without turning around. "Hey, you know what? I have an idea. We should celebrate."

Dallas placed his hand on the top of the doorframe to the living room. He leaned there for a moment, then turned around. "Celebrate what?"

"Well, first of all, how awesome you were catching Zeke today. Most people can't get him without a tranquilizer, and you did it with your bare hands."

It was an awful curse to have to suffer through, but Dallas couldn't deny that he was an absolute glutton for flattery.

"True that, all right. Did'ya see how I wrangled him when he nipped my lasso in half, mate? I wrestled the li'l devil to the ground."

"I can't believe I missed that!" Mike beamed, his tongue dabbing at the gap between his front teeth. The gap they all had between their front teeth. "I'm sure the security cameras recorded it. I wonder if I could get a copy of that. I'd love to put it on my Tumblr. Hashtag Best Brother Ever."

"Brother?"

Mike shrugged slightly without taking his hands from between his knees. He had a slightly shy, slightly dopey little grin on his face. "Told you your crush on Lana felt like incest. What can I say? Only-children fall the hardest when it comes to friends. I'll bond with anyone if given the chance. You guys live in my house now. I stand by my decision to see you as my family."

The prickles in Dallas's forehead prevented him from asking why he'd used the 'L' name. Mike seemed to notice this, because his smile flashed away for half a second. But only half a second. He snapped his fingers again.

"Oh yeah! And another reason we should celebrate for, Thanksgiving is tomorrow."

"… Din't we already have that?"

"American Thanksgiving, I mean. That's when the western pioneers made it across the Appalachians into Mexico." He jumped off the table. "You guys have never had a birthday before, right? Well, I think we should make your birthdays Thanksgiving. Because we have a lot to be thankful for, all of us being alive. I think I'll try baking a cake, and we can have it for breakfast tomorrow. Celebrate with us if you want, or don't. Honestly I just want cake, and I'm eighteen, so I can do whatever I want." He trotted off for the pantry with a little hum. Dallas shook his head and went to check on Maximus again. Strange little 'dillo, wasn't he?

But perhaps Mike had a point. They had plenty of things to complain about, but just as many or more to be grateful for. They had a solid roof over their heads. Maximus hadn't croaked. Sydney didn't _completely_ despise them. Elliot hadn't killed anyone. They were all together, snug and warm and happy.

Well, except Monty.

… Oh, Monty. He didn't know what he was missing, did he?

As Dallas confirmed that Maximus had fallen asleep in his chair, he dipped into his Seeker instincts and cast out his mental fishing pole. It snagged on Monty's navy colors and tightened. Somewhere out there, Monty was wandering around in a blizzard. Shirtless in two ways. Maybe shoeless. Probably starving. If he was even still alive. It seemed unlikely he'd be for long. Stupid little ball of snot. Would they know if he died? Would it shock their systems to the core? Would they all go with him? Or would Monty just fade from the mental map until he disappeared?

How could he have been so _oblivious_? For crying at the wind, he was Seeker! He could track a squirrel a good kilometer through the leaves. He could sort the falcons from the pigeons when the others just grunted "Bird". He could navigate by the stars and by the moss in the woods. He'd spotted the grazing deer before it noticed them, and he and Willow had made it their special little moment there in the park. He was the most observant of all of them. He didn't blame the others, because of anyone, he should have noticed that Monty was getting antsy. It was his job, as the strongest and the wisest, to keep the family together, dangit. And he'd fai… Well, he'd only managed to score a four out of five.

Dallas gazed at the sleeping Maximus a moment longer, then got to his feet and went out to the porch. The cool air was welcome on his face, but it didn't push away the confused swirl inside him. As much as he longed to tousle Monty's hair again, the thought of having to confront him made Dallas sick to his bones. How on the planet was he going to explain his blindness to Monty? Monty deserved…

Okay, fine. Monty deserved an absolute, honest-to-goodness apology for the way they'd treated him like a maid without so much as a thanks and viewed him as a bratty kid they felt they shouldn't have to listen to and so never did. There, he'd said it. For once, he'd made a mistake.

He pulled his hat over his eyes, because the cold was making them hurt.

The door opened behind him, and Dallas forced himself to look. "We're out of cake mix," Mike explained, tugging on his golden jacket. "And eggs. I'm going to see if I can borrow some from one of the neighbors."

"You go on and do that, skimp."

He tilted his head. "Did I miss the apocalypse? I've never seen you cry before, _ever_."

Mike, as blunt as a circle, per the norm. Dallas flipped up the collar of his jacket and turned away.

"All right, sorry. I'm walking away. I might be gone for a few minutes. If there's something you want to say, call out for me now. I'm going down the stairs. I'm walking across the lawn. I'm stepping into the-"

"Clamp it, Michael."

"… You know, that's actually not my name. Everyone thinks it is, but it's not. It's just Mike. I was always just Mike."

Dallas waited until he'd gone into one of the other houses, then swung himself over the banister and dropped to the snow. His boots landed with a crunch on something hard. There was a hiss of breath.

"What the-?" Dallas looked down and realized he had landed on a pale hand. Shifting away, he crouched low to peer beneath the porch. "That you under there with the logs an' rats, Ellie? The blazes are ya doin'?"

Elliot blinked back with narrow eyes. "Looking for pliers. Mike missed a few of the more obscure power cables, so I'm going to help him finish the job, since he obviously took no pride in his work. Namely concerning the phone lines."

"Because you're tired a' Kenny callin' up Syd for dates, am I right, mate?"

"Sure."

"All right. Just don't hurt yerself." He cringed at a sharp creaking of wood. "Or anybody else. And don't get too cold now."

He chuckled and stuck his injured fingers in his mouth. "Trust me, I won't."

Sighing, Dallas slid his hands in his pockets and started up the hill. He walked along the street for maybe a minute and a half – just as well, since a prickling in his scalp warned him that he'd be smacked with SDS in another few steps – before he turned around again near the crest. "Y'aint gonna go away, are ya, sheila?"

"Sorry. I vas vorried." She shivered in her parka. "Mike said you vere crying?"

Dallas stared down the hill as Elliot ran around the house with a big red jug of water, splashing it against anything and everything. "Maybe I miss Monty. Li'l Mont was the smartest of all of us, eh. Sure wish I would've thought to run away like him."

"You are not meaning zhat, truthly."

His breath came out in a cute little cloud. "Aw, but I wanted to, Willow. Every day for the whole week after he ran away, I wanted to leave so bad that I felt the ache in my chest like a snakebite. And I didn't, because I figured ya buckaroos needed me. And now I see you don't. As great as I thought I was, I wasn't making one lick a' difference, was I?"

"Dallas, you know zhat is not having any truth to it ei'zher."

"What's the point, beauty?" He massaged the bridge of his nose. "It don't really matter how many tables I wash, how many bugs I smash, how many fights I break apart - There's always gonna be more, because Ellie never learns. Monty never learned. Seems like what I do doesn't make any difference to anybud but me. Am I s'posed to just keep this up forever? I can't do that."

Willow lay her hand on his elbow. "You make all ze difference in ze vorld."

"You wouldn't miss me if I was gone."

That was a lie, and they both knew it, so he tuned out her response. He didn't mean the words, but he felt better saying them. They made him feel like he had a choice for once, instead of just being the shepherd running circles as he tried to keep his flock in line. "One wrong step and you're food for the dingos," he would scold them every time he carried a lamb back to the fold, but they ignored him. They didn't sense any danger and they wanted to play, and so they would play. He just had to watch all of them at the same time so he could save as many as he could. It was such a shame they would stay stuck as lambs forever, never growing up to recognize the threats of the world for themselves. He could use a breather.

Willow seemed to read his thoughts. She was always good at that. She squinted at him, then said, "Dallas, you are being Seeker. If you are really missing Monty, vhy do you not vant to go after him?"

"Course I want to, Wil. But… but we can't, eh?"

"Vhy not?"

Shrug, eyes on Elliot and Maximus walking out from the house, arguing over something pointless. "Well, because he left us, koala bear. He made his own choice. It ain't fair for us ta take that choice away from him and make him stay if he clearly don't want to."

"Because you are vanting him to be viggling back on his belly, begging forgivings for abandoning us, so you vill feel like he vas wrong, and you vere alvays right. Because you zhink your going after him vill make you ze veak vun surrendering."

"… Yes."

She looked at him for a long moment, and he kept his face down. "You know, I zhink if you vere really loving Monty, you vould be concerned more for his safety zhan for your pride."

"Oh, and how d'ya expect we'll find him?" Dallas pointed to his temple. "I know you can't sense him anymore, but I can. He's so far away, Wil. I can't say where exactly, only that he's made my map zoom out so far, everyone else just looks like a single rainbow blob, even with us up here and Max and Ellie down there. He stole Sydney's car. We'd never catch him on foot, 'specially with the snow. What do you want a' do, drain the rest of our cash on the bus fare? We don't have an income anymore. We gotta save it. It ain't fair ta Mike and Sydney ta have ta provide for us like this. We gotta stand on our own."

She waited until he was finished, then waited a little more. Elliot came out from the garage, whistling and looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. At last she said, "Are you loving our family, Dallas? Or are you only loving just yourself?"

He twisted, so startled that he actually took a step away from her. "Of course I love my pack, even when they are a mob a' wily devils."

"Zhen if you vere loving Monty, you vould try to be following him. He is needing somevun."

"Spatial-Displace-"

"At ze very least, you vould be begging Mike to go after him, instead of always spitting zhat Monty vrunned off and should stay avay until he is humbled by cold and hurt and fear. And if you vere loving Villow, you vould have apologized for letting her burn her hand."

He reached for that that hand and turned it palm up, splaying out her delicate fingers. "But I do love you, numbat- you know I do. And actually, I've got somethin' ta ask ya about that. Sheila, do you see us as …?"

His next word was going to be 'siblings', but Dallas never got the chance to finish it. He squinted into the evening sun. The light reflected oddly off Mike's little house down there at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, so it looked like the whole place was shrouded in mist. "What in tarnation? Is that ol' Max's spirit floatin' up to heaven?"

"It is looking like…"

The realization that it was smoke hit them in the same instant.

"Oh, glory."

They ran. Great stars, they ran- faster than he'd bolted in his life, maybe, or maybe not. Maximus was outside under the oak tree, staring mutely at the flames in the garage windows like he didn't process what they were. Elliot sat in a branch of the tree itself, swinging one leg and whistling his happy tune.

"Crikey! Willow, get in that pink house there and call 911!"

"Don't bother." Elliot grinned as he watched them fumble for a new plan. "Mike and I cut the phone lines, remember?"

"Dang kid," snarled Maximus, finally regaining his senses. He sneezed twice into the crook of his arm.

"Where is Mi-? Oh, you flippin' _didn't_ , cockroach."

"As if!" He snorted. Flicked Sydney's lighter from one palm to the other. "You made me promise not to hurt anyone, after all. Don't you trust me to keep my word? I thought that's what families did. But you're telling me now that you didn't believe in me to begin with? Aw, that cuts me straight to my core, Dally. My self-esteem just went rock-bottom." He slung himself down to the snow, not even flinching when Dallas grabbed him by the collar. "No, Mike went door-to-door for groceries, saying 'borrow' like he planned to return them. Remember that? I would hope so, seeing as you stepped on my hand. Stop freaking out, toots. As Mike would put it, you need to 'chill'. Ellie's honor, I was left completely alo-"

A feminine scream erupted from inside as the flames licked up from the garage to the main domicile and spread like rabbits turned loose down under.

Elliot stiffened like a flung catapult. He snapped up his head, staring at Dallas. His eyes had been blue once. Now, they were only white. His irises shrunk to specks so small they were all but invisible. His fingers yanked Dallas's away.

"Oh, don't do it, Ellie. You'll never find Syd, never make it out before – Ellie, NO!" Spitting every curse word he knew, Dallas took off up the driveway after him. Too late. Elliot bolted back inside the sizzling house, slamming the front door. There was a splinter-filled crack. A heap of rubble cascaded from the ceiling and the front entrance caved in. Dust and ash swirled into the air.

" _ELL-I-OT_!" all three of them screeched together.

"Dallas, do somezhing!"

Do something? What kind of something? Dallas was four meters from the house and he could still feel the heat roasting his cheeks to the bare bones. He looked around for a stick to wedge between the shattered scraps on the porch. Or vault himself onto the roof. Honestly, he wasn't picky.

Instead, what he spotted was Mike, tearing down the street to join them. His jaw dropped with the carton of eggs and box of cake mix in his arms.

"I was only gone for five minutes! What did you do to my house?"

"Elliot and yer mum are inside." Dallas didn't bother to say "It's burning" – he figured that much was obvious.

"Did someone call 911?"

Willow yanked out the pockets of her parka. "Vith vhat phone? You and Elliot vere cutting all ze lines!"

"But I didn't- Oh, here!" Mike tossed his cell phone in Dallas's general direction; with a flash of déjà vu, Dallas dove to catch it just before it shattered against the ground. He flipped it to Willow, who immediately began punching the buttons.

"Michael, don't you even dare!"

Mike wasn't nearly as skilled in gymnastics as Willow was. But when he got that running start, even Dallas's attempt to tackle him couldn't derail him. Dallas – missed! – went sprawling in the snow. He jumped back to his feet, spewing frost and dirt. Mike landed on the front overhang above the porch, grabbed the tattered baseball from the gutter, and hurled it at the nearest window as hard as he possibly could. Weakened by the fire, the whole thing caved in. He scrambled up along the edge of the roof and wriggled inside like a snake.

He was gone. Just… just like that.

Willow's hand was plastered over her mouth as she sputtered rapid Russian words into the phone. Maximus started marching for the door, thrashing his cane, but Dallas grabbed him by the elbow and hauled him back. Onlookers tottered out from their homes to gape and shout. The roof groaned and started to collapse inward.

He didn't- he didn't-

What to even-?

It was a long, frozen three and a half minutes, and Dallas spent most of it trying to wrestle Maximus backwards, hollering every explanation why he couldn't allow the old man to go streaking up the steps. One of the neighbors came running over, his eyes inflated.

"Are people still in there?"

Then Willow screamed, and Dallas jerked back just in time to see Mike full-on tackle Elliot out the broken window. They rolled across the overhang and tumbled over the edge to the ground, where they lay unmoving together in the snow.

Mike got to his knees before Dallas reached him, sobbing a string of "I hate you, I've always hated you"s into Elliot's unconscious ear. The heat was scalding this close to the house; the hairs on his arms were about to blaze. Dallas scooped up Mike, who was still clutching Elliot like an enormous teddy bear, and ran across the street with Willow and Maximus on his heels. He lowered the boys to the snow, and Mike put his face in Elliot's frosty hair.

"How's he holdin', mate?"

"… He got hit by a piece of falling chimney after the wall collapsed. I-I'm sure it doesn't help that I yelled his old name right as it happened. That prob'ly shocked his system pretty hard – you know how that works better than me. But I think he'll be … o-okay still."

The neighbor man cleared his throat. "Mike-"

"Back off!" snapped Maximus, hobbling up. "Give a man some breathing room to talk to his grandson without your spittle dripping down his neck."

"Um, did you call 911?"

"Yessing. But please, ve are needing a minute of ze space."

The man withdrew up the street to join his family, saying some words. One of them was "Sydney" and another was "Nuts".

"Mike?" Maximus prodded the teen's neck with his cane's end. "Ah-ah- _achoo_! Gosh dangit. Where's Sydney? I don't suppose she made it out through the back door? 'Course not. That'd be too easy."

Mike did not reply. Dallas knelt beside him. He waited half a second, then grabbed the backs of Mike's shoulders and shook him hard.

"Michael Dunn, where's yer mum at?"

" _How the heck should I know_?" Mike whipped around, slapping Dallas's hand away. His brown eyes were liquid fire, and Dallas really hoped he wouldn't go for his switchblade. "I was getting you cake mix!"

"Mike, yer house is on fire right now. It's okay to swear. We won't think any different of you. We won't hate you."

Mike blinked and rubbed his eyes with soot-dusted hands. "Just you wait, then."

"Just we wait!" roared Maximus. He shoved past Willow and Dallas and slammed Mike on the head with his cane. "Monty is gone, Sydney's dead, and Elliot almost went the same way! I'm _through_ waiting, especially for your secrets."

"Oh, you want the truth?" Mike shot to his feet, clutching his skull with one hand and keeping the other arm wrapped around Elliot's chest. "You want the stupid truth? _I'm_ Elliot, okay? I'm Willow and Dallas and Monty and I'm _you_ , Chester."

Maximus recoiled and fell back in the snow like he'd been slammed with an uppercut. He stayed that way, sprawled in the drift, while Mike stood fuming above him. Even Dallas decided to stay crouched, his forehead blazing.

"Ztop it, Mike!" Willow clapped her hands to her ears. "Ve are vanting ze truth, but not like zhis vay! Not vhen you are angry and confused! Can't you vait?"

"Ha!" Mike hugged Elliot close and tossed his free arm in the air. "My house is on fire. My mom is probably _dead_. Someone here is about to get arrested for arson. Why? Because I decided to forgive the psychos who ruined my life for eleven years. I thought that maybe, memories wiped, you could… I dunno, change." He shook his head. "But personalities don't change, do they? I trusted you. I flipping trusted you! You got the second chance you guys always wanted. Were you thankful? No! I don't even care anymore."

Dallas lurched to his feet and took Mike by the shoulders again. "Michael. Drop Elliot and snap. Your. Trap. You gotta take a breather and think things through. Use your head, mate. You're crackin' under stress. You can spill the beans later, but now is not the time. You're spoutin' loonytalk like CO2, mate. Nah, this ain't the way it's gonna go down. I'll find it hard to punch your nozzle when you're ditzin' about all loopy."

Mike's dark gaze lit up the color of fresh hot chocolate, and he did let Elliot fall so he could clutch his cheeks. "U-use my head! My head! Well, thanks for inviting me over, considering you used to live in here!"

"Yeah," Maximus moaned as Willow dragged him back to a sitting position, "he's gone over the edge. Dagnabit. Now we'll never get the straight truth out of him."

Willow said, "E-everyone be ztopping now. Ze house is on fire still. Ze neighbors are coming out to stare again."

Mike jabbed his thumb in her direction. "You think it's a coincidence that when Willow found that stray cat, she wanted to call her Spencer?" All four of them flinched, and he plowed on. "Or that the name always makes us jump like that? Like we've been static-shocked? Like you know there's something really important you're supposed to remember, even though you can't?"

"Mike, what in great tarnation does this-"

"My learner's permit doesn't say Mike! It says _Spencer_ , just like my birth certificate. And he's been dead for twelve years." He looked around their little group, bleary-eyed. "We … we were all the same person once, and we lived inside his mind. By the time we were all in there together, we were a five-and-a-half-year-old boy named Spencer who was learning Spanish and loved drawing dinosaurs and drinking grape juice and folding paper boats and sleeping outside on the trampoline in the summer, a-and we killed him! He needed help as Kurt was beating him to shreds, and we flipping up and killed him when he needed us most."

"… Mikey?"

Mike ignored her. "We were only splinters of his personality back then. We're still only pieces of him, and we'll always be. I know you don't remember it, but I do, because those memories are still in this body. We attacked him from the inside while his father attacked him outside. In fact, I led the coup myself. I delivered the final blow. I broke us. I gave us multiple personality disorder. On _purpose_."

"Mult-"

"Shut up!" He wiped his face with his entire palm. "Because when Spencer first started falling apart, I realized that I could take his golden crown for myself, and I did. And then, once I'd gotten what I wanted, I tried to grind the rest of you into the gutter for the next eleven years. _There_ is your stupid truth, Chester. Forgive me for not wanting to remind my mortal enemies why they were supposed to hate me. Forgive me for being the lonely and selfish child who after all these years just wanted to have my little friendship fantasy. Or don't. Loathe me forever now. I. Don't. Care."

He twisted about and started to storm away who knew where, but Dallas grabbed him by the back of his collar. "Let go of me!" Mike snapped, but Dallas pulled him from the ground and all scrawny Mike could do was slap and seethe.

Willow took a flailing hand and started rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. "Mikey, it's all okay. Zhis … zhis is so confusing for all of us hearing, but Villow trusts your judgingment. Vhatever in ze vorld happened to make us … zhis, it must have been difficult zhing for you to do, to have given us zhis 'second chance'. Ve don't hate you."

"I do," Dallas said, and socked the boy hard in the jaw.

"Dallas!" Willow shouted, whirling on him. "Vhere is your mercy? Are you not seeing zhat he is distressed?"

Gritting his teeth, Dallas dropped the reeling Mike back on the sidewalk. "Sorry, mate. I've wanted ta do that near as long as I can remember. It felt good, eh."

"I want a turn," Maximus said, coming forward with his cane raised high once again, but Willow threw out her hands. She stood there, glaring at the older boys while the younger one cowered in the snow behind her, knees to his chin.

"You vill not have taking anozher step! Dallas, Maxi – Villow is great ashamed at ze both of you."

"You're too good, Wil!" Dallas shoved her shoulder. "When people start yelling, your first reaction is to break into tears. Good glory above, you're such a freakin' crybaby. Don't you ever get _angry_? Don't you ever want to take it out on someone who deserves a solid roundhouse down under?"

She flared redder than Elliot had when they'd been teasing him that morning about his schoolboy crush on Sydney. Had it really been that morning? Surely not. "Ve _shared a body_! And somehow he vas splitting us up, like magic. Your 'vitchcraft', even, zhat you are alvays yelling on about. Do you _vant_ to be getting up his bad side?"

"Uh, yeah." Mike got to his feet, but he didn't come out from behind the furious Russian girl. "Um, I can totally do that."

… Okay. She made a good point. So… Say they had once… belonged in Mike's head? Maybe next time Mike wouldn't just split their brain, but split their whole beings into a dozen more tiny pieces. Give all his former… alternate personalities(?) multiple personality disorder of their own, or something.

Yes, this was totally normal.

Nor was it the strangest concept for their existence they had ever come up with, actually. At least it explained why they, not being the fallen angels Monty had thought, didn't have wings.

Dallas pulled his hat over his eyes. "Why is this my life?"

"This would be so much easier if Monty hadn't stolen my scrapbook," Mike muttered to himself. He looked at his flaming house, then at the sky, and started rubbing his arm. "You guys were always begging for the chance to live your own lives, in your own bodies. I guess wishes really do come true, if you want them hard enough."

Maximus stared down at Elliot, still lying unmoving in the snowy grass. A distant siren gave a wail. Willow brushed imaginary tears from her dry cheeks. Dallas said, "I don't think I can sleep next to this li'l bugger ever again."

Mike shrugged. "Then don't. Do what Vito did and split off on your own ways. You got your second chance. I don't know, go make something of it. That's what I've tried to do. But if that's what you want, then get going already before someone finds out the fire wasn't an accident."

"SDS, mate. I called it Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome for a reason. We can't split up that far even if we want to. Not without Monty's blood."

That made Mike look down at his shoes. "Yes you can." He drew his switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Mike?" Willow's eyes went wide. "Vhat is it you are doing now?"

He tilted his head. "Let me see your hat, Dallas."

"Mike-"

"I'm not going to rip it. Don't you trust me? I hope so. I may be Mike, but even though you guys got catapulted from my body, you're still a part of me. I'm Dallas too. We should be able to trust ourself."

Still reluctant, Dallas held the fedora out upside-down. Mike didn't hesitate; he sliced a nick in his thumb. Several drops of blood welled up and fell on the underside of the hat's brim. "There you go. Since I'm supposed to be everyone now, I'm pretty sure it will work. I saw it work for Monty in the parking lot. You can stay together if you want, but at least this will give you the option when I'm not around anymore. Hand me your hat too, Maximus."

"Stop it! Stop it, Mikey!" Willow was sobbing now. She hurled herself as Mike, straining for the knife. Dallas grabbed her around the middle and lifted her to his shoulder. She screamed. She pounded on his back with her fists. She kicked him in the chest and kneed him in the jaw.

Dallas just ignored her.

Since Willow didn't have a hat, Mike slashed off a chunk of his singed shirt. He didn't offer to make a little blood-cloth for Elliot. Dallas asked him why without thinking, and Mike just gave him the most deadpan look of all time.

"Oh." He replaced the trembling Willow on the ground, and she stood beside him, mute as a feather. "Well, what about you, then? What are you gonna do now? You've got no house, mate. You've got no mum."

Mike mimicked the sound of the fire sirens very softly for a moment. Then he said, "I guess I'll have to move in with Zoey's family for awhile. Except they went down to see relatives in Florida and won't be back for another two weeks. Let's see, who's in reasonable walking distance?" He grimaced. "Courtney, Staci, Zeke, Leonard, or fangirls. Hoh boy. I might be better off locked away after all. At least I'd get a word in edgewise."

"Dangit Mike, you can't stay here." Maximus held out his wrinkled hand, but Mike didn't take it. "If you're still around when the cops show up, they'll think you did it."

He shrugged again, avoiding their gazes and still rubbing his arm. "Um, there's really no point in running. Elliot got blood on Mom's lighter before the shelf collapsed on it, y'know? And they'll run a DNA test and think it was me anyway, since everything that makes him came from me first. I already have a juvie record. So yeah. Thanks for offering, but I can't."

"… I am being much so sorry, Mikey."

Mike waved them off with a flap of his hand. "Don't worry about me – Just get going. Every scrap of evidence points my way. The police can never prove you were here unless they catch you loitering around." A thin smile crossed his lips. "Take care, guys. It's been fun and I'll miss you. Feel free to write. You know Zoey's e-mail. And… and you don't ever have to worry about it being awkward, right? Because we're all really the same person anyway, so it shouldn't have to be weird."

The last Dallas saw of him, Mike stood at the base of the driveway with his hands in his pockets, calmly watching his house burn down as disbelieving neighbors flocked around him.

"Vell zhen," Willow said as they walked away. "Who is having ze bright idea now?"

"We go up to Foster's farm," Dallas said instantly, leaning his shoulder against a small Watch For Children sign. He adjusted Elliot in his arms. "For cryin' out loud, he's got a feral mongrel for a son. I can't imagine he'd turn down hired help at this point."

"Hired help," Maximus scoffed. He checked back over his shoulder. "I think you're forgetting the part about how he's considering selling the whole place because trying to manage it and work at the school and support a sickly wife and child is running him ragged. Remember what Zoey said about her money?"

"So then we'll save the farm, eh. Don't you kits see it now? Maybe … maybe we had ta shake Monty for a reason – we all know how scared he was a' the horse. Maybe we lost our spots in Mildred's for a reason. Maybe Mike's house had a' burn for a reason. So we could find a place there. We could be the blessing ol' Foster's been praying for."

Willow pulled up her hood. "Go zhere if you are vanting. But Villow is going after Monty."

"… Pardon?"

She looked him straight in the eyes. "Monty is needing me."

"Aw, have ya lost your noodles somewhere, precious?" Dallas pushed one palm up his forehead. "Monty ran away from the only friends and family he ever knew, eh. You can chase him from Alberta to Queensland, but if he hated us that badly then nothin' you do is gonna encourage him to come back. If we set fire to his house, we can't fix that now, can we?" He turned his gaze from her to Maximus and back again. "I said we're going to Foster's farm. And we are."

Maximus opened his mouth, but Willow beat him to the stabbing.

"And I said you should be forgetting it, Dallas!" She thrust herself on her tiptoes, the hairs on her parka hood bristling like coyote hackles. "I vill not be sleeping in ze varm bed with ze good food knowing zhat my tvin bro'zher is still being out zhere vith no idea vhere to find us. Ve told him ve vere going to Mike's house. If somezhing happens to him and he cannot be making it to Vinnipeg-"

She stopped herself short.

"Winnipeg?" Dallas repeated.

"Is nozhing," she hissed, balling her hands into tight fists.

Maximus took off his hat. "Holy goshdarn dagnabit, Willow. Do you know something about Monty that you're not telling us?"

She would not respond. The fire sirens grew closer.

"Have you been keepin' secrets?" Dallas jabbed a thumb into his chest. "I know you ain't been keepin' secrets from me, koala bear."

"You can't hide truths from us," Maximus agreed. "We were the same person once, who shared the same brain."

Willow flashed her scrap of Mike's shirt in the air. It flapped like a bitter flag alone above a battlefield. "Not anymore. I am going to be finding Monty, vith or vithout your helping me."

"You- you- Winter is about to freaking hit Canada!"

Shrug. "I am being ze Russian child. I played naked in ze snow. I vill be handling vinter better zhan you, I'm zhinking, Mistah Austral'ya."

"You don't know the first thing about Russia," Maximus began, which proved to be a stupid thing to say because Willow broke into a furious bout of foreign words that left little room for argument.

"You don't have money for bus or cab fare," Dallas tried, and suddenly found himself yanking some bills from his pocket and handing them out to her. Whoops. That probably wasn't helping his case. Stupid lovey-dovey instincts.

"Zhen I am valking," she insisted, pocketing the cash without looking at it. "Villow velcomes ze being outside again. She vas getting like snug bugs, cooped up inside vith ze everyone all days."

"We can't go after Monty, sheila. Foster needs help fast or he's going to sell his place, and who knows what'll happen to his kid then, or us. At least on the farm no coppers would ever come poking around. Chasing Monty could take weeks, Wil. Months. And when we see him again, everyone's feelings are just gonna get hurt."

"Bah. As if you vere having feelings to be starting vith. As for me, I am having nozhing better to do." And so saying, she turned on her heels and started off down the sidewalk, her breath billowing behind her like steam puffs from a train.

"That was dang cold," mumbled Maximus.

This wasn't happening. Dallas pressed one ear to the side of his head, screwing up his eyelids. The tapestry was tearing apart before his eyes. Every piece was springing from the puzzle. His house of cards was tumbling down.

He wished he'd never learned the secret at all.

As the sirens roared even nearer, Maximus scooped the end of his cane around Dallas's neck and dragged him down to eyelevel. "Willow's going after Monty, ding-dum, and you aren't going to change her mind with your blibble-babble. You and Elliot have each other and the farm. But someone has to look out for Mike."

"Oh, kangaroo crud." Forgetting Willow for a moment, Dallas turned his full attention on Maximus. "C'mon, ol' timer. You can't be f-"

He put up his palm. "Aw, don't you start blubbering on me. The boy's lost his father, his mother, his house, and even the other shards of his own darn personality. You heard him say he's been to juvie once before. He just offered to take an _arrest_ for us, for Saint Peter's sake. Under the circumstances, who knows how much longer his girlfriend will stay with him? Now of all times in his life, the boy needs someone he knows he can lean on."

"And what about me?" It was about all Dallas could do not to collapse to his knees and squash Elliot flat. "My girl just walked out on me too. I had one brother run away and the other go juvenile delinquent straight before my eyes. I never had a mother or a father or a house that I can remember in my life, eh! And I'm the only one who never asked for 'em, never once complained! I just made do with what I was given and tried to hold this family together. I did good, Maxi. My whole existence, I never did nothin' but _good_! I've had _so_ many bad thoughts, I've wanted ta have _so_ many breakdowns, but I held myself together willingly, 'cuz I had to. To keep this family livin'. And I… I… Please…"

Maximus's eyes welled with blue pity. He sneezed just once. "I'm sorry, Dallas. I need to make the most of the time I have left in this life. And that's not with you anymore." He tapped Dallas's ankles with his cane. "You've grown into a big boy now. We've come to that time when I let you pour your own cereal and pull up your own panties too."

Dallas whirled around and kicked the Watch For Children sign so hard it toppled over. "How the freakin'- How is this _fair_?"

As the firetruck at last pulled onto the street, blaring its bells, Maximus spun his cane and started to limp back down the hill. He didn't even say good-bye. Dallas screamed a lot of things at him. Mostly that it was a good riddance.

He gathered Elliot tight in his arms, because it wouldn't be fair to leave him here without any of Mike's blood. Well, at least he'd have someone who wouldn't abandon him, then. Dallas could still sense Willow vaguely heading into town ahead of them, and he chose to walk slowly so she could have her headstart. The sky faded into night.

There were other phone booths along the way, but Dallas ignored them all until he made it all the way down to Mildred's Pizza and Deli for one last look. The lights were off. The sign on the door turned to Closed Until Tomorrow. A Help Wanted notice had been tucked into the corner, writing small like it didn't actually want to confess its existence. Dallas pressed his forehead to the glass and drank in the outline of every table, every chair in the dark. When he pulled back and stepped away, he spotted a picture stuck to the window like a flyer. Every side was edged in pink and black duct tape patterned after zebra stripes.

It was a photo of them all, back when they'd had the Halloween party. Willow had her arm around Zoey and cat whiskers painted beside a smile that could melt every snowflake from here to Russia. Maximus was trying to pull the camera away. Just behind him was was a vampire gnawing on a sugary pumpkin cookie- Monty, his fist lifted high and his eyes shining. Bright orange sprinkles dotted his nose and most of Dallas's shirt.

Stupidly, past-Dallas had eyes only for Willow as he adjusted his fedora, still believing like a faithful schoolboy that she could have feelings for him at all. What a blind loser. As brain-dead as the zombie he'd let Princess Zoey paint him into.

Elliot hovered in the background in the red devil costume Zo had sewn for him, stabbing more knives into their scowling jack-o'-lantern than ever should have fit. And Pirate Captain Mike of course was in the front, sticking out his tongue, his fingers raised in a peace sign. Below the picture, a series of words had been printed in swirling script with a painstaking hand: _Bring back the life of Mildred's._

Underneath that was a purple sticky note. It said, _Seriously Trental, this is Zoey White. I will freaking pay you. Give them this._

Dallas took his hat from his head and stared at the photo for a very long time. He shifted Elliot in his other arm. He licked his lips.

At last the hat went back on, and Dallas turned away.

"Thanks for tryin', Red. But ain't none of us worth the dust on yer shoes. It's much too late for some of us ta swallow our pride."

He started off down the sidewalk, still clutching Elliot to his chest. His boots clopped on cement and echoed in a lonely way. Far away, a police siren gave a coyote's wail.

At the corner of Rosedale and Allenmere Park, Dallas stopped. He turned on his heels. He walked back. Back down the street. Back to the little diner. The glossy photo gleamed as the moonlight shifted among the clouds. Dallas ripped it from the window and stared at it some more.

A golden goody two-shoes had taken the picture with his cell phone, his arm extended, and there were five others in it who mattered- A cranky old man, a Russian gymnast, an Italian tough guy, a juvenile delinquent, and a rugged adventurer who pretended he remembered a lick about Australia.

"Funny," he said, "how we look nuttin' alike, but no one ever told us we couldn't belong in the same family. They just went right along with it. _We_ went right along with it, like a whole bunch a' puzzle pieces that all came from different boxes, and they don't fit together quite right. God knows we tried to make it work. We never had basilisk snot to our names, we rarely agreed on anythin', and yet for five whole months we kept that li'l place runnin' just fine."

Elliot murmured in Dallas's arm and put his tiny, innocent little hand to his chest. He'd be waking soon. Dallas stuffed the photo in his pocket. Then he ran his fingers along the brim of his hat, where Mike had spilled his blood to give them all a fair shot at life. And he'd known when he'd done it, hadn't he? Known all their paths would never cross again. Not in this lifetime. They may as well be dead.

 _Dead_ , Dallas thought ruefully, _but not sleeping. Oh, I sure ain't sleeping. I still got far too much that gotta get done._

Up the street, a stoplight blinked to green. Engines revved. Cars kicked into action. Elliot groaned a second time, stretched his arms, blinked his eyes. Dallas stood him on the sidewalk and talked for half an hour. Elliot was quiet for a long while. Finally he said, "I'm going to burn Mildred's too, and I'm going to kill Mike, and then I'll run away to Michigan for the rest of my life; they'll never look for me there," and Dallas said, "Fine then, if that's what you want," and ripped off a tiny bloody shred from his hat and handed it to him. Elliot took it and asked, "That doesn't bother you?" and Dallas said "Not anymore, mate," and crossed the street alone. He turned back only once to see Elliot standing beneath a street lamp, watching him go with his head cocked to one side, the thin scrap of tan fabric in his palm.

Dallas still had money from their shopping trip, and thankfully that included change from the Lucky Charms. When he reached the phone booth he poked in some coins, picked up the receiver, hesitated, lowered it again, prayed the number was right, and then jabbed his thumb at the buttons. His first guess was wrong. As was his second. But on the third try, he got the numbers in the right order. The line was picked up on the first ring.

"Mr. Foster, sir? It's Dallas Smith. I called you earlier, about yer boy."

"Ezekiel didn't get out again, did he?" Footsteps from another world. "We only just got back – he couldn't possibly have made it all the way out there."

"No sir, it's not Zeke. It's… it's me. I'd like to work on yer farm. That is, if you haven't sold it yet. I can't stay at Mike's place anymore. That wasn't working out."

Silence.

"I don't have any papers- I won't lie 'bout that, and I don't have any real experience in the area, not that I can remember. But I'm a solid, hard worker. Give me a job and I'll pour my whole soul into it. You don't need to pay me, if I can just sleep in the shed with the cows and get a few meals ta eat every once in awhile. You do have a barn, don't you, mate? Or a chicken coop, eh? Or… or a pigpen? Or an open field, Mr. Foster sir? That'll do. I ain't a picky fellow, I really ain't, really, s'long as I have a purpose to follow."

"What's your favorite coolor, Dallas?"

"... The heck?"

"Ansoor the question, please."

"Uh, well. Well, I guess I have no choice but… orange. Sir."

"We'll put you in the study, then. I'm 'fraid it's a mess of old textbooks and art sooplies at the moment, my fault, soory, but I'll bring the old bed down from the attic and we'll be off to a good start. Let me find my left shoe. I'll pick you up at the Sun Ray's groocer's in an hour forty-five minutes." He hung up without waiting for the tears.

Dallas closed his eyes and sighed long and hard, whistling through the gap in his teeth. He placed the phone back on its hook and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Snow began to fall. It gathered in the curve of his hat and melted on his cheeks. Dallas turned up the collar of his jacket, squared his shoulders, and started off.

And light footsteps came jogging after him. No voice ever called "Wait," or "I changed my mind", but they just walked, side by side, hands fisted in their pockets, along the path to Sun Ray's.

"Hey," Dallas said.

"Hey yourself, sprinklecake," Elliot said.

"Decided to leave Mildred's standing after all, eh?"

"I didn't have a choice. I lost my lighter in the fire."

Dallas brushed snowflakes from a bench and sat down. Elliot didn't, but he didn't leave either, just picked beneath his fingernails with the flat end of a match.

"Are there lots of people there?" he asked a second later.

"Where; in arsonist heaven?"

"Foster's farm, idiot."

"You followed me, eh? You wily li'l dingo, I din't even hear ya."

Elliot shrugged. "S'what I do."

Dallas scrutinized him for a moment, then leaned back and pulled his hat over his eyes. "He pro'lly ain't hirin'. I was lucky he likes me. Doubt he's got room for more, 'specially if he's gonna be feedin' me meals. We both know he's pressed for cash these days."

"Oh, please. Who could say no to this face?"

"He's got a pick-up truck, y'know. Two-seater, and I got dibs. You'd have to ride up in the bed."

"I dealt with worse trapped in the Mildred kitchen with Willow ten hours a day. Did you ever notice how she'd only speak to me in Russian when we cooked? How I ever put up with her so long without reaching my breaking point is beyond me."

"Runnin' farms is hard work, mate. I was under the impression that work weren't your thing."

"Luckily I have you around, then. You can work, and I can supervise. With both of us playing to our individual strengths, we'll make a fantastic team of BFFs."

Dallas grinned. "And he lets his kid run loose all the time when Court ain't around ta drag him about by his little ear."

Elliot made a grimacing noise. "I'm not scared of Zeke."

"You don't have ta be scared for him ta poke out yer eyeballs and chew up yer insides, eh?" Dallas lifted his hat to see Elliot's expression, but the smaller boy was turned the other way, holding a rock. He bounced it in his hand, then hurled it at a red sedan in the parking lot. He missed by a lot.

"I'll kill that creep if he messes with me. I'll mess with him first. I'll win his trust and order him to attack anyone who dares cross me. Including you," he added, spinning back around. "Don't ever forget that, Seeker. You and I are not friends. With this stupid cloth, I can leave your company any time I want. In fact, I could steal your hat and run off with it, and you'd be left convulsing on the ground from Spatial-Displacement-Syndrome for the rest of your life while I got away scot-free. I'm only here because, at the moment, I choose to be. But in the end, I. Owe. You. Nothing."

"I'll remember that, mate," Dallas said, tapping his temple.

Elliot grunted and sat down on the snowy curb.

They stayed that way until a single yellow headlight pierced through the gloom. Dallas stood as the battered black pick-up ground to a halt and expelled a tall shape, who looked about in the dark.

"Oi, Mr. Foster!"

The shape crunched slowly through the snow, turning into a man. Foster held out a wide, callused hand and Dallas shook. "Loocas is fine. That's what my friends call me."

"Friends, eh?" Dallas closed his eyes for a second. "I rather like the sound a' that all right. And you know Elliot, yeah? Ellie? Where'd you- Aw, get out a' there, Ellie; now that's just not polite."

Elliot popped up from the truck bed, spitting out a tuft of hair that had fallen in front of his eye. "Why? We all know he's going to say yes."

Lucas looked him up and down. "Doon't you push your luck, son. You got sooft hands, eh. That ghostly skin a' yours e'er seen the light a' day?"

"Sure did, this morning when I helped Beefy here bring down your son."

"Huh. You woon't give me any trouble?"

Elliot disappeared beneath a tarp with a mirthless chuckle. "No promises, toots."

"Don't mind the skeeter too badly," Dallas said, waving one hand. "He snaps hard, but he don't snap often. He's harmless, mostly."

Lucas grumbled, "I'm soore he is," as he climbed back into his truck. Dallas circled around to get in the other side.

"I'll keep him in line. Cross my lasso-lovin' heart I will, if you'll just let him stay."

Lucas said something that might have been an "I trust you," but more likely might've been nothing at all. He plugged in a key and twisted. The truck rumbled to life. Dallas grabbed instinctively at the door handle for support. The only iron pony he'd ever ridden in before was the bug Mike had driven today, and having the tight metal walls rattling around his head made him uncomfortable deep down in his heart.

That was assuming he even had a heart. Maybe Mike had kept that too, with the original body. Maybe he was running purely on imagination and kitchen grease.

"Your sister called," Foster said after they'd been driving for a good seven or so minutes.

"S'cuse me?"

"That girl, Willoow. Not five minutes 'fore you did, asking if I'd take you on, eh. I'd just put down the phoone when you rang. Perfectly synchronized like a couple a' sheep." He laughed. "Almost like you were separate parts a' the same being all along."

Dallas said nothing, and Lucas spared him a glance. "Were you?"

"Why are ya askin' me that like it's a serious question, kookaburra? It's all jack nonsense, that's what."

That made Lucas give a little snort. He took the stick-shift as they moved up a ramp to a really big road with no streets or stoplights, and somehow the truck got faster. "Kiddo, I seen my feral son spit acid and survive falling into a voolcano – thank the Lord above with all the love in my soul for CP pills, eh? When I battled the gover'ment for his coostody, my attorney was a chicken. Your being Mike's alternate persoonalities in physical manifestation isn't the strangest cooncept I've e'er had to wake up to."

Dallas squinted. "Just how many beans did Wil spill on ya anyway?"

"Not a lot," Lucas said, shrugging. "T'was that girl Staci who figgered it out foorst. Din't believe her. Thought she was lyin', like she usually does. But then I heard your voice. I've watched e'ery episode of Tootal Drama with Zeke at least six times. Or most of 'em, anyway. It's his favorite, 'cuz it reminds him why he wants to get better, so he can be what he was and have his old friends love him again, eh. We have all the DVDs and cable. I can shoow you, whenever you think you're ready."

"So we _were_ brought along on there with Mike. S'plains why he cut the power on us 'fore we could see. I imagine that would a' been a nasty shock for us ta find on our own, eh. And … then you know who Elliot is too, I s'pect? The trouble he's capable a' gettin' his nose in?" Dallas drew his brows together. "I may've lied back there 'bout how harmless he is. He's a biter with a fiery dragon's tongue, eh. Why'd ya invite him to work on your farm, knowin' that much or maybe worse?"

"Well…" Lucas glanced in the rear-view mirror. "I saw him playing ball with 'zekiel when I shoowed up at Mike's hoouse, rubbing his patchy li'l scalp and whistling to himself and wiping the acid from the ball on the back of Zeke's shirt. I doon't know much 'bout Mike or your past with him, 'side from what the Staci girl's spilled, but when I was looking on and wond'ring if the boy in green who was tusslin' with my son in the snoow was really the same Mal who broke 'lectronics and hoort people on the shoow, I thought something.

"I doon't know if it's true, but I thought that the poor boy prob'ly ne'er had a dog to play with and love him without judging who he was afore. I heard you say on the phoone that your name was Dallas, and I thought that maybe Staci could be right when she said you're existing somehow ooutside a' Mike – just another one of God's oordinary miracle kids – and maybe you didn't remember who you'd been. Maybe you guys started fresh as seedlings. I like to think that people can change, eh."

It was his turn to snort. "Real people change, maybe. Personalities don't."

"Aw, sure they do. If they want to."

"So ya see the good in e'eryone then, eh? Just my luck I'd get another fluffheaded Willow." Dallas rubbed his eye with one knuckle. "You're a right ray a' sunshine, ain't ya, mate?"

"I try ta be, yes. I doon't like giving up on anything, or anyone, anytime."

"Well. I'm glad."

"Good."

They puttered on in silence among a red sea of taillights. Dallas checked over his shoulder a few times to see if Elliot was still in the bed of the truck. He always was. Sometimes he leaned so far over the side that it was a wonder he didn't tumble out and split his skull, but he always was.

"… Oi, Lucas? What was my name, before? When I was part a' Mike? If I had one, anyway. It weren't Dallas too, were it? It can't be. Ellie gave me that one."

"You called yourself Mannytoba Smith."

A shiver raced down his spine. That was it! That was definitely it! It slipped over him like an old jacket or well-worn hat. It felt like a good sharp breath after a long sprint uphill, or the first time Monty had snuck them into the gym and he'd gotten to have a warm shower.

"And what was _her_ name?"

"Svetlana."

He wondered if he'd liked Svetlana as much as Willow.

Dallas took the manual handle and rolled down the window. He pushed his hat up with his thumb. Folding both arms, he leaned forward so his elbows were out the window of the truck. When he glanced back, he saw Elliot in the same position in the bed. Except that Elliot's eyes were closed, and he was whistling.

"Oh glory, Ellie," he murmured. "Do I even want to watch what you did on that show?"

Did he want to know what _he_ did on that show? Dallas spent a brief moment considering the question. Right now, he was a blank slate. Maybe he ought to keep it that way. Perhaps he'd tell Lucas that he didn't want to learn his past after all.

Ha. Yeah right, hotshot. Patience was not one of Dallas's strengths. He didn't handle secrets very well; he lived for the reveal of surprises. And if it turned out he had once been an awful, slimy excuse for a human being? Well, so what and buttshakes, kookaburra? He could learn from the past, dust himself off, and go straight on whistling just like Elliot. Not a perfect being, but a being working to the best of his abilities. Yes, there probably would be mistakes to fall into. Apparently even he was capable of making them.

He ran a finger around his damaged ear.

Maybe, if Elliot didn't get them killed, Dallas would enjoy working on the farm. Maybe Lucas would let them take a camping trip in the mountains once or twice. Maybe one of these days he'd meet a cute girl. Maybe sometime he'd track down the other, well, 'personalities' again, one by one. He'd always been good at seeking. Right. Six months from now, soon as summer rolled around, it was a date.

Assuming Maximus didn't croak of old age.

Assuming Monty didn't drink himself cold.

Assuming Willow didn't ship out to Russia.

Assuming Elliot didn't set him alight in his sleep.

Well, whatever happened, surely he could be happy. After all, for the first time in his life – In fact, for the first time in his entire full existence, according to Mike – he was his own free man. No fights to break up. No one to babysit. No one to hold him back. No one to keep him caged. No Monty. No Maximus. No Willow. Just little Elliot. He could handle one little Elliot. And a Zeke. It would be fun.

Dallas Seeker Manitoba Smith removed his fedora and held it to his chest. He rubbed at the prickles in his forehead. Svetlana's violet light was heading south fast, but he couldn't get any better read than that. Chester's scarlet was moving north at a more dignified pace. Maybe tucked in a police car right alongside Mike. Green was smack beside his own orange, of course. And somewhere, very far in the west, he picked up a splash of deep, shining sapphire blue.

"I always thought it was a stupid rainbow. Don't even have yellow in it." Just Mikey gold, standing off to the side, beaming through his teeth like he'd swallowed the sun. He didn't even show up on the mental map. Only in their memories. He just popped out of nowhere and made their skin erupt into prickles whenever he got too close, and he was awfully good at it. What a right louse.

"Mmhm," Lucas murmured.

With a choking gasp, he jerked upright. "Hold on a mo'- If the Spencer body's blood is still made up a' all of us – if our blood's in him so much that Elliot'd be a match for it – why can't I pick up on Mike's glowy thing too, eh?"

Lucas made another response, but he didn't hear it. He stared out the window at the great wide road and the rolling fields of snowy grass beyond. He snapped one imaginary puzzle piece to another, tried a third, couldn't make it fit … gave up again.

It just didn't make sense.

Unless … unless Mike had lied, knowing that as furious as they were with him, they knew he needed a family, even one as ruptured and dysfunctional as theirs. And that no matter what bites they spat at him, the only way they'd ever leave him behind for the police and save their own skins was if they felt his arrest was inevitable either way, and they had no choice unless they wanted to join him in the slammer.

He groaned and slammed the heel of his palm into his forehead. The other hand slipped into his pocket to stroke the photo from Mildred's. Replacing the hat, he slid down in his seat without opening his eyes. "Bloody cripes, we've been had. Straight under our li'l noses. Like a fresh crop a' turkeys plumb for shootin', eh? Tch … Ya really are the golden boy, Mikey. Ya really are."


	7. BONUS: Mike Can't Keep His Mouth Shut

He wasn't late. She'd expected him to be - her whole plan revolved around it - but he was early. It caught her off guard (her mental map never had worked as well as Dallas's). Strange that he always seemed to have that effect on her, despite the fact that she still viewed him as her twin - in mind and heart if not through body and blood.

"In mind". How joking.

She knew he'd seen her looking from well across the train station, but for the sake of one another's pride, they each pretended not to know. Willow turned her back on him. Drawing one foot up so her toes rested lightly on her ankle, she slumped a shoulder against the curved brown wood of the wall. Not only did this allow her to look away from him, but she also had the perfect excuse for it. Just above her head, a TV played images of slalom skiers charging down the course in the winter Olympics. In Sochi flipping Russia.

Oh, how Willow longed to be there. Running through creamy whips of snow. Breathing in the stinging air. Home in the country that deep in her heart felt like her own.

But then, what would be the point? Gymnastics was a summer event, so even when someday she did get accepted on the national team, there would be no travelling to as stereotypically wintery a place as Russia for her, ever. The next games would be hosted in Rio de Janeiro, according to the Internet. Tokyo four years after that, so at least she'd have something to look forward to. She'd never wanted to go to Japan, especially after Zoey had ruined it for her with all her mangoes and animeans or whatever those were, but she embraced the thrill of adventure nonetheless. Stand her on a balance beam or toss her on the bars, and she would shoot her rivals out of the water.

Willow kept watching the TV as he approached. Tomorrow would be the final day of the Olympic competition. That seemed fitting.

He hadn't come alone either. Which was, again, quite strange. Since when did Monty keep friends?

Well, the 'when' was obvious. It was another W question - Who - that Willow was really interested in answering. She had caught only a glimpse of the girl's face before she turned away, but it was enough to send mental porcupines rolling across her forehead.

Willow was aware of how grubby and unpleasant she must look to him. Her shirt – Mike's old turquoise shirt – hung ragged around her shoulders. A gray scrunchie that had once been a real color kept her brown-black hair knotted in a tight bun and out of her eyes. She hadn't brushed it for weeks, probably. Not out of lack of hygiene or laziness or the unavailability of combs and soap, so much as spite.

Yes, she'd made herself look so grimy and gross on purpose, even though she didn't have to. She wanted him to feel bad. Very bad. Was that petty? Of course. Was she proud of herself? Without doubt. Pride was sort of her thing, even these days. Her stubbornness was almost a compulsion, and she was always willing to embrace it.

She waited for Monty to say the first word. He expected the same of her, it seemed. Thinly chance of that ever happening, and that finally occurred to him. As he leaned back against the window, arms crossed around a small, clear plastic bag, he cleared his throat.

"Hey, Glitterglue. Can I buy ya a coffee?"

Abandoning the pre-established script she'd spent so many hours poring over, Willow threw her hands around his throat and sunk her thumbs deep. Pity, really, that she had that awful nail-biting habit.

"And vhat is being your excuse for zhis, Monty?"

He started to say something else, but then he stopped. His cheerful smirk slipped. Grabbing her left arm with his free hand, he wrenched it down parallel to the floor. "What in- Ay, who's the snot who did this ta my sis's arm?"

"Is just an old blister scar, Monty. It has healed much and is okay."

He swore too softly for Willow to hear which word. "It was worse afore? Yo, how did ya keep from gettin' your head completely knocked off and killed while I was away?"

She shrugged. She didn't have any jokes - not like Elliot always did, and she didn't have Dallas's nosy curiosity or Mike's ability to smile through armageddon.

Scratch that last part, actually.

Monty rubbed a tented scrap of her skin between his forefinger and thumb. In the end he let her hand drop. "Louisiana, Willow. What've you been doing for the past three months?"

"Vell, mostly I have been staying at ze gym. I used ze money to purchase membership, and I am having access to showers and food, and ze area of recrationativity too. Now, tell me vhy you are holding ze fish?"

Monty scratched behind his head and held out the small plastic bag. "Anne Maria and I were talking on the way here, and somehow we got the dumb idea that we should adopt a cat to give you as a present, but those things freak me out, so in the end we just stopped and grabbed you a goldfish instead."

Willow sighed and held out her hands for the bag. The little fish stared at her with blank, uncaring eyes and turned a quick circle.

"Zhank you, Monty. I am glad you care. I zhink I vill be naming it-"

"Lemme take a whack. Spencer?"

She shuddered. Partially because it proved he really did know. "No. Not Spencer. I vill call her Svetlana."

He looked at her for a moment in a frowning way with his hazel eyes. "Uh, you sure 'bout that? Just… that's kinda your name, so-"

"I am not vanting zhat name anymore. Not yet. Maybe later, vhen I am ready for it again. But for now, at zhis time, it does not seem to be me. I have been Villow Dodger for ze past eight months. It has grown up onto me."

"Well, Svetlana or Willow or Dodger, I'm glad you're all right. I shouldn't've gotten all worried. You're my sis, after all, and if anyone can take care of 'emself out in the world alone, you can." Monty embraced her. Willow, despite her pride, decided that for a few seconds she could allow herself to melt into that hug, because it just felt so right to be together again. Even after their hundred and six days of separation, they were still a definite match.

And why shouldn't they be? He was her needle, at times defending her if she hesitated and at times guiding her, and at times undoing her stubborn knots. She was his thread, there to show him that if he really tried, he too could create things that were beautiful.

He was the lock, closed off but caring and willing to protect if one should tell him to. She was the key, who could wriggle in and out of any little crack, but lost so much of her worth when removed from her natural environment, because when it came to communicating with real, actual people, she was hopeless.

He was the solid earth, forced to be all grounded and immovable when all he really wanted was to take her place as the free sky, overlooking everything and never understanding what to do about it. He stood strongly, bravely, even when all her instincts were screaming at her to get away.

He was the bull. She was the sparrow.

It was Willow who let go. She blinked once to clear her eyes, though there weren't tears. Straightening her spine, she said, "Mike's house vas catching fire and zhey took him to jail for arsoning, I am zhinking he said."

"Yeah, heard all about that. I'd tell ya I couldn't believe our little Ellie had it in him, 'cept it don't shock me. Not a whole lot does these days. Our lives're messed up too much for surprises. Anyway, Mike called Anne Maria about it a long time ago. Used his one phone call for it. Long story- involves a nut with purple hair. Speaking of which, hey. Anne Maria, come over and meet my twin, Svetlana."

She winced as the girl got off her little wooden bench and strode towards them, spraying something in her dark springy hair that smelled of sweet oranges. "Please be calling me Villow, Monty. Zhat name is still making my head fuzzy like broken radio signal."

"You get used to it. I did- It'll fade in time. And now that I've found the old me again, I like Vito better. I really do." He slapped her on the back, then turned and pointed. "Anyway Wil, this here's my girlfriend, Anne Maria."

Anne Maria started to open her mouth, but changed her mind and let it fall shut again. She extended her hand for shaking. "Hey there, Svet. Er, Willow. Yah prob'ly don't ruhmember me, but we hung out a few times around a yea' ago a' so."

"You're very pretty," Willow told her sincerely.

"Yah've never looked better yahself, peaches. How's it feel tah be in a girl's body 'stead a' stuck trapped inside Mike's?"

"I bleed sometimes."

Monty (Well, Vito, if he really did prefer it) made a show of plugging his ears. Anne Maria's lips twitched. A little laugh bubbled out. "That happens." Then she paused, scratching her nails across the back of her wrist. "Um, hey sugah. This is gonna ring out soundin' pretty stupid, but there used tah be a turtle in the othe'quarium tank next to Mike's fish in the kitchen. Did it go up in flames with all the rest a' the house?"

Willow looked up at the ceiling. "It must have had done so. I do not remember seeing Elliot bring ze tank out into ze shed ever."

Anne Maria's brows tilted upwards. Her eyes dropped to her shoes. She stared for a moment, then wiped her face with her arm and nodded. "Well, that's the answer to that, then. Shall we go?"

"Going vhere?" For one stupid instant, she thought Anne Maria meant her own home. As if she'd take in a complete stranger just like that.

"Anywhere that ain't this cruddy train station." Anne Maria set her hands on her back just behind her hips and looked around the bustling area. "All y'all always were real good at stickin' yahselves into everybody's own business. Can't believe y'are s'posed tah be dead an' you're still causin' me problems. I really don't know what we're gonna do with y'all. Not a single one a' yah has a birth certif'cate. Not sure how yah're gonna get jobs or get yahselves anywhere in the world. Why don't yah just come back tah my aunt's place for awhile?"

Willow's fingers tightened around the bag with the goldfish. "Ze place of your aunt?"

"She runs a hotel. Five stahs, in my opinion. I work for her in exchange for stayin' there. Gets me a place a' my own, y'know? Ain't much fun livin' in a house of five li'l brothe's all the live long day when ya're the oldest and th'only girl. They're hardly three streets over, so you'll get tah meet 'em all soon enough and you'll see why I like livin' where I do. But I'll talk tah her, my aunt, and we oughta be able ta getcha your own room so long as yah're willin' to work around the hotel tah pay for it. That okay by you?"

Willow wanted to cry, except her tears still wouldn't come. Usually they didn't. Her face flushed all pink and red and her throat got all hot, but rarely did the tears ever bleed out. She said, "I am not sure what I should be saying. You vould be giving Villow a job like zhat? And a place of her own? You are not even knowing her."

"Oh, we know yah." Anne Maria put out her arm for Willow to link her own through it. She did so, tentatively, and Vito put his own arm around Anne Maria's waist from the other side as they began to walk towards the station entrance. "You're a friend."

"Ah, yes. Villow was forgetting zhat ve vere on ze Total Drama show as Mike, and you must have been seeing us. Of course you vould be. But… I am not being so surety about zhis zhing. It is seeming… imposing?"

'A sudden loss of control', more like.

"Do yah have anywhere else you're stayin' at instead?"

"… Vell, no. But Villow sort of likes living-"

Anne Maria threw up one hand and gave her hair a toss. "I don't want tah hear your protests. You're my friend - my boyfriend's twin sistah - and you're in need, and I'm gonna make sure you're takin' care of right. You deserve as much. Next stop, Quebec. We got a long drive ahead a' us."

Willow still wasn't sure about this. She fell silent as they crossed the road, brooding over her gym membership and her gym friends and just… the familiarity in general. Winnipeg had become her city. She'd explored all its nooks and crannies over these past eighty, ninety days. She liked wandering around it at night, even when it was snowy and cold and she had only a pair of tennis shoes to keep her feet dry. She liked living by her own means, counting out her coins and dollars carefully and managing her own time, choosing her own path. It gave her a thrill. It made her feel… grown up.

Which was something she'd always felt like was missing before, because Mike had always been the one in charge. Or if not him, Dallas. Or Maximus. Or any of the boys, really, in their own ways. Maybe it was because she was the only girl in the gang, automatically the one vote against five, but she'd never really felt like her life was much her own. And now Vito and Anne Maria were going to take that autonomy away from her again?

Sigh. But Vito was her twin, no matter how differently they looked. She knew he was, and part of her belonged to him, in a way. Maybe some of her pieces belonged to each one of the others too. They were her family. And it was tough, if not impossible, to abandon your family when they wanted to help you. So she climbed into the middle row of the big blue minivan and pulled the door as shut as her mouth.

"Somethin' wrong, doll?" Anne Maria asked.

"No. Zhank you for giving Villow zhis opportunity. She vill treasure your kindness greatly and she vill not be letting you down."

To her shock, it was Vito who climbed in the driver's seat and turned the key. Anne Maria didn't say a word. The radio spurred to life and they began to roll out. Willow decided not to turn around and watch the lights of the train station until they disappeared. That would feel like saying good-bye to her old life.

And this wasn't a new life, really. There was no 'new' or 'old'. This was just… a change in the way her story was going. A surprise. A blip. She would get control of herself again soon.

"Here." Anne Maria handed back her blue smartphone. "I want yah tah see this if you haven't yet. This is Mike's Tumblr blog. It's set tah private, so if yah need it the password is tdgen2, all lowercase. We all use that one."

Willow wondered if she cared who 'all' was. No, she discovered. She really didn't. Focusing her attention on the phone, she started to scroll through each and every post with care as her twin drove them on and on through the darkness.

January 16th. _Max has an escape plan. He needs my phone. Oh boy. Knowing him I won't be getting it back in one piece, so I just want to take the time to wish my Zo a happy birthday on the 19th. Love you, more than anyone I've ever met, even though I've met a lot of people. You know, with everybody living inside my head and everything. You are my anchor, my angel, and if I were a cannibal then I would definitely eat you last because you're so pretty and dainty and sweet and you mean the world to me. I'm sorry, I was trying to be funny but that sounded a lot cuter in my head and Scarlett's hissing at me to get a move on and I'm feeling really pressured. Gtg now. See you soon, I hope. Whatever happens, just know that I love you. I will always love you, no matter what I say or who tries to make you believe I don't. Don't stop waiting for me? #My angel_

Willow had to stare at that for awhile. That was the most recent post. Today was February 22nd. Over a month had passed since then. She had no idea if Mike had fled prison, or been recaptured without access to the Internet. He also could have died, but Willow was struggling to keep positive.

January 14th. _Okay, well now we're all in trouble._

January 14th. _BETH IS THE RINGLEADER WHAT EVEN #I thought you were pure #How long was I gone?_

January 14th. _MAX AND SCARLETT JUST WALKED IN AND TRIED TO BREAK ME OUT WTF I'M REALLY CONFUSED AND FLATTERED #Like excuse me I don't know you #Scarlett #Max #Relationship goals #Scax is so canon I can't even_

January 8th. _So Chester just showed up. With Lightning. Anyone want to explain this to me? #Lightning #Svetlana is not here what do you want from me?_

January 7th. _Happy birthday Jo! Sorry I can't call- It's hard enough hiding this as it is._

January 5th. _I'VE BEEN WITHOUT SOAP IN THE BATHROOM FOR THREE DAYS Can we please do something about this? #I'm gonna lose it #Seriously I might snap you shouldn't test me_

January 2nd. _Happy birthday tdgen1duncanharrison #I'm pretty sure you don't actually have an account #But I thought I'd try tagging you anyway #Although you're in prison so you wouldn't have access to the Internet huh_

January 1st. _Well, it's my birthday again. Here's to another year of being fourteen. There won't be any gymnastics routines or scraping at the mortar for escape routes or gold statuettes today. Nope, this time from sunrise to sunset belongs purely to Mike. It's a time of old reflections and new beginnings. Of one's struggle to improve. Pssh- like you can improve much when you were born the Golden Boy. Well, this year I resolve to eat healthier and lose five pounds. Shouldn't be difficult considering my current lifestyle #First world problems #This is my day_

December 29. _Met my half-sister today. She's nice and all but it turns out one of our other half-sisters has schizophrenia so maybe mental disorders run in the family? #Kurt's kids #He probably has like six honestly #Michael Dunn and #Phoebe #That's an obscure joke but I couldn't resist like how perfect! #My girlfriend appreciates my sense of humor_

December 25th. _Okay now Ann Maria and Vito are here and it's just getting weird. #Ann Maria #Vito #Me and my big bro #It's Tuesday like do you not have school?_

December 25th. _Guys you have to stop visiting me today or I'm going to cry. #Staci #Don't you have better things to do?_

December 25th. _THEY BROUGHT MANITOBA AND MAL I guess they've been staying on Foster's farm. They seem happy. As well as they can be, I guess. Mal was acting super loopy though. I think it's a combination of his birthday and Mom's death getting to him. He seems to be in denial. I hope everything stays okay for them._

December 25th. _Guards took my scarf away because it's not up to dress code standards. #You can strip me of my fashion sense #but you can't break my spirit!_

December 25th. _Mr. Foster and Zeke are back. They made me an awesome scarf. #Flaunt it if you've got it #Golden Delight #Zeke_

December 25th. _Zoey tried to bring me Christmas presents! Best gift is her though, am I right? #My angel_

December 24th. _So I'm craving gingerbread men, I've let my hair fluff down over one eye, I'm feeling really uneasy about being so close to the ground, I want to climb up something tall, I've been whistling a lot, I almost forgot how to use this phone, I have to keep consciously stopping myself from destroying it, and I just spent the last hour staring at a wall for no other reason than because it was green. Yep, this must be me being half Mal #Mal day #Can't wait for #Svetlana day #That should be interesting #MPD problems #I guess they never really go away #I'm also really missing Mom but I think that's only normal_

December 24th. _It's Mal's birthday today. I feel really weird, like part of me is still trying to bring out the Mal side of me again #I've got it under control #No worries #I just feel bubbly #MPD problems_

December 21st. _Okay, but am I supposed to tell him about the MPD thing? I mean, I've recovered so much, and if he never believed us back then then there's no way he'll believe it now #MPD problems_

December 21st. _Here I am eating lunch with Dad in prison #Father-son bonding #? #This is super awkward honestly #But he hasn't done anything to me yet so #I'm trying to have a good attitude I swear_

December 19th. _Hiding in the library sounds like a good plan. I'll just stay in here for the rest of my life._

December 19th. _I thought I was supposed to have a restraining order against him but maybe not? Maybe that doesn't apply when we're in prison? Maybe only Mom had it against him? Maybe they expire? #Really freaking out_

December 19th. _I think he knows I'm here what do I do what do I do?_

December 19th. _My Vito instincts are telling me to fight and my Svetlana ones are saying flight. My Manitoba side wants to do him in too. Chester side thinks he hasn't seen us. I'm not so sure. And then Mal is just really confused. He doesn't have too many Kurt memories- just a splinter back then. Mike parts of me just want to continue freaking out. #MPD problems_

December 19th. _WHAT THE HECK WHY IS KURT HERE? I THOUGHT WE LEFT HIM IN ONTARIO WHAT HAPPENED? OH MY GOSH NO PLEASE SEND HELP I CAN'T DO THIS!_

December 19th. _tdgen1katieevans tdgen1sadieclark Haha thanks for the reunion invite but I probably won't make it. #First world problems_

December 16th. _Look who came to visit me! #Hint it's Zeke #His dad too_

December 16th. _YES SWEET! Ann Maria found Vito! #Look how happy they are #He's okay!_

December 15th. _When does the new season of that Ridiculous Race show air, does anyone know? #Good luck to Noah Owen Geoff! #Leonard too #I know filming's been over for ages #but I forgot to wish you well earlier_

December 15th. _I keep forgetting that I'm supposed to be 18 and not 14 #MPD problems_

December 15th. _Prison is underrated. I have food, a warm and dry shelter, clean clothes, entertainment, friends… What else could anyone ask for? Beats living on the run!_

December 7th. _Zoey came home from Florida yesterday! Today she drove up to say Hi. #My angel #If she looks really upset it's because she is #I love her #Zoey no murder is not the answer here #Yes even if it's Mal_

December 6th. _They let Chester see me again! He won't tell me what he's been doing though, so if anyone finds out please let me know._

December 5th. _OH YEAH! And happy birthday, Staci! Love you! #In a completely platonic BFF way #I can't get you that music I promised and I'm really mad about that #You win this round_

December 5th. _Haha just kidding I managed to steal one so we're all good #I wasn't going to use that lamp anyway #Bryce hasn't killed me yet #He still doesn't know about the phone_

December 4th. _Oh shoot- Battery at 6% and I just realized I don't have a charger._

December 4th. _Kenny came to see me as soon as possible. I almost wish he didn't because I can't stop crying._

December 3rd. _Shh! Don't tell anyone, but I channeled my inner Mal and stole a phone off one of the guards. Here is me with my new roommate. His name is Bryce and I'm pretty sure he's in here for brutally maiming his nephew so let's not wake him up. #Selfie Sunday #Yes I know it's Tuesday #I look pretty good in orange honestly #Manitoba would be proud #Bryce hasn't killed me yet_

November 30th. _Yep, and I'm off to prison. Looks like they're going to take my phone so this is probably good-bye for now. Thanks for all the support, guys! You're great friends. Feel free to visit me anytime they let you! #Fingers crossed that it's better than juvie #At least no Mal so yay to that! #Actually that's not true because I'm partly Mal too #I forgot that bit #MPD problems_

November 30th. _Please stop sending me Sorry messages. I don't need your pity. I'm okay._

November 29th. _Mom is officially dead. Oh gosh, what am I going to tell Kenny?_

November 28th. _And we're out of here. #Trying to have a positive attitude #Really nervous about riding in a cop car again #I'm so sorry Manitoba #I never realized you had these memories #It sounds mean but I'm glad you dealt with them #Because I'm totally losing it over here and we're 18 now_

November 28th. _Here is me and Chester talking with the police. Is? Are? #Chester no don't poke authority figures with your cane #That is not how we make friends #I raised you better than this #Trying my best not to panic but cops just freak me out so_

November 27th. _I told them the truth and I let them go. Chester says they went different ways. I don't know if I'll ever see them again._

November 27th. _Hey guys. Looks like I'm going on hiatus for awhile. Mal set my house on fire :( #Anyone want to adopt an orphan? #JK I'm probably gonna be arrested for arson tbh #Someone call Zoey please #She's out of range and my messages won't go through_

There were about four hundred comments on that post- far more than any of the others. They consisted mostly of _Where is Mal now?s_ and _Are you and your mom all right?_ s and _WTF?_ s. As near as Willow could tell, Mike hadn't responded to any of them.

November 28th. _Father/son reunion, aww! #Zeke_

November 28th. _Shut up B no one asked you._

November 28th. _tdgen2staci WHAAAT? NO! Would I do a thing like that?_

November 28th. _tdgen2staci Thanks!_

November 28th. _Hey, how do you flip a circuit breaker?_

November 28th. _Bonding with my lil bro #Mal #We were just play-fighting I swear #There are other things I should be doing tbh #Better sneak around back and check on M and S #Might be updates to the Svetoba tag tonight ew_

November 28th. _Gotcha! Time to take him home 'til Daddy Foster gets here. #Zeke #Manitoba Smith #I have the best brother ever #Not you Mal you suck #I got shot with a tranq dart today if anyone cares #I will never laugh at African Lyin Safari again_

November 28th. _Me and the fam getting ready to go on a Zeke hunt #Bring it_

November 28th. _Nvm He's in my area I got this_

November 27th. _SIGNAL BOOST Zeke got loose again. Heads up, Manitoba buds! tdgen1courtneyross Seriously tdgen2staciwilcox he's probably after you again so watch out tdgen1codyanderson tdgen3leonardmoore_

November 25th. _Looks like Zo's enjoying Florida! #My angel_

November 23rd. _Mom said not to take pictures of her eating but I couldn't resist #You'll thank me one day #My mom Sydney_

November 23rd. _I told them it was too cold out here for a barbecue, but would they listen to me? Of course not! #Family bonding_

November 23rd. _My drawing skills leave a little to be desired. Don't laugh, Cody. We can't all have your gift. #My hair still does the flip flip when I want it to so pssh_

November 22nd. _Zoey's heading out to Florida for that service project at her grandparents' place. Love you Zo! Be safe! Don't worry about keeping in touch with me every day- I have a whole family to watch my back, remember? Just enjoy yourself! Talk to you when you get back in two weeks! #My angel_

November 21st. _Doing history homework with Chester. Either the best or worst idea I've ever had. #Chester_

November 21st. _Stop milking this, Staci. #Actual Mikaci_

November 21st. _Svetlana got impatient with me so she finished my Russian homework herself. Hey, works for me! #Svetlana_

November 21st. _And now Staci and I have an official shipping tag. You are all horrible people. #Actual Mikaci_

November 21st. _SAM NO Mikaci is not a thing! You realize my girlfriend Follows you and I'm going to have to answer for this, right?_

November 21st. _tdgen2samsam I'm allowed to fight for at least one unpopular ship, and if I have to be the lone Sawn swan for the rest of my life then so be it! #Sam/Dawn must live no matter what Lightning says!_

November 21st. _1-ightningstriker Okay, point taken. Now I need to take a few long showers. #And the captain goes down with the ship #Gurgles of a drowning person_

November 21st. _LIGHTNING NO Why do you always have to destroy my favorite ships? #YOU RUINED JOCK, SAWN, BACI, AND SAMKOTA FOR ME #HAVEN'T YOU DONE ENOUGH?_

November 21st. _Svet c'mon don't slap your brother when he's trying to flirt with you! #This is Svetoba #I'm really torn between whether I ship this or not honestly #It's just so awkward but like #Sometimes he's so gentle and supportive and it's really sweet #And other times it's just like dude no #This is your sister wtf_

November 21st. _The Svetoba is strong with this one. #Actual Svetoba #Svetlana #Manitoba Smith #Seriously get a room you two you're gross #Manitoba sometimes you flirt like you're twelve #Stop numbering your winks #Lana don't shoot him down he's trying so hard #Tbh I think she's gay anyway #Either that or she actually is crushing back on Lightning #She's never said and it's not my place to make the call but ? #Manny I think she's just playing with you because you amuse her #Actually she probably just sees you as her brother #Y'know that probably should have occurred to me before I got this far in the tags #Maybe I've been reading too much into things_

November 21st. _Gosh dangit Manitoba you're super embarrassing. You're a wilderness adventurer! How can you be afraid of ladybugs? #ManitobaSmith_

November 21st. _So we went to the train tracks today and… this happened. #Mal #Why? #Just why?_

November 20th. _Fish #Fish_

November 20th. _Few things light me up like new soap. #Okay so maybe I have a handwashing problem #But I embrace it #You hear that Staci?_

November 20th. _By this point I am like 80% sure Chester is crushing on my mom. I don't know if it's a crush or if he remembers that he's supposed to be modeled off her grandpa and he thinks she's his granddaughter or what but it's totally adorable #Chester #Homemade ice cream cookie sandwiches yum #I'm a spoiled kid these days #And I love it_

November 19th. _Nevermind. #Mal_

November 19th. _Mal chilling with Mom #Lazy backyard snow days #Why is he the only one behaving himself honestly?_

November 18th. _CHESTER GET DOWN FROM THERE BEFORE YOU SNAP YOUR NECK We can't afford to go back to the hospital tonight #I honestly can't decide if I love you #or if you just irritate the heck out of me #Chester #These guys were all waiting for me to come home so they could hit me with snowballs #What jerks_

November 18th. _MANITOBA PLEASE STOP DIGGING UP MY YARD There is no treasure srsly #Love you anyway #Manitoba Smith_

November 18th. _LANA YOU NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION Geez, why do you have to be so stubborn? #Love you anyway #Svetlana_

November 18th. _tdgen1bethcollins turns 20 today! Has it been that long? Happy birthday! #Beth_

November 17th. _This was my attempt to mimic her. #The girly scream was totally done on purpose #I need to go to the hospital probably #My beautiful face :(_

November 17th. _Quintuple flip pike back handspring twirl backflip thing off the back porch! #Svetlana #She has a cold FYI_

November 17th. _In case that wasn't enough, here's another video of Svetlana doing her routine. #Svetlana_

November 17th. _How does she do that? Even with her instincts in me I'm not even half that good. #Svetlana_

November 17th. _You want to know the reason I love my big sister? Everything. Everything is the reason I love my big sister. #Svetlana #Adore her #Don't tell the others but she was always my favorite #Frosting_

November 17th. _WAFFLES! Lana helped to cook them. #Hope I don't die of food poisoning #Haha I kid #Mostly #I mean she did cook for like five months so I should be fine #Still I think I'll make sure my phone is handy in case someone needs to call 911_

November 16th. _Kenny's just so cool about all this and I love it. #Just look at him trying to bond with #Manitoba Smith #This is super precious honestly #Mal still hates his guts #I'm keeping a close eye on him though no worries_

November 16th. _Did you really have to build a maze in the living room, Manitoba? #Manitoba Smith #Mom's not going to be happy_

November 16th. _Nvm Mal wants his fridge #Should I be a total jerk and shut him in the washing machine? #IDK I think that would be hilarious honestly_

November 16th. _Slumber party w/ my bros. #The ones who didn't steal cars #Great gramps too_

November 16th. _Happy 18th, Sam! That's nuts! We'll have to get together sometime soon before life gets too crazy!_

November 12th. _Indiana is staring at me and judging super hard. #Oh gosh why do turtles have such evil eyes?_

November 12th. _News says it'll snow any day. Better round up my squad. #Vito is an idiot_

November 12th. _epicjoblanchard NO that wasn't Zoey. Geez, people…_

November 12th. _I'm sorry, to both of you and anyone else who believes in the Great TOM stuff. I'm still not used to dealing with my own frustration sometimes and I've been so wound up lately. I may not believe in spirits and things, but they're important to you and what I said were uncalled for. You have my apologies._

November 11th. _Tyler did you just Unfollow me for that? #That probably was out of line #I'm sorry I shouldn't poke holes in your religion #I know you'll come back #They always come back #Half-Latin bros forever gotta stick together_

November 11th. _Okay, the fact that lightning struck and the power immediately went out was just a coincidence. #Wtf though it's not even raining #It's like noon and sunny_

November 11th. _NOT YOU LEONARD NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR FANTASY WORLD. That "great barrier" thing of yours may be under government surveillance, but that doesn't automatically make it magic. It is literally just a wall. It's just some ancient ruins that give you weird ancient diseases if you touch them. There's nothing special about it. There aren't magical artist people watching us from the other side of it. If you really want to visit it, ask Sierra and she can give you a tour through Showtown. #Don't get high on CP pills though #Seriously you're the last person who needs them_

November 11th. _I'm not a religious person. Someone tell me how to say prayers. #Like do you build an altar or ?_

November 11th. _Oh my gosh it's going to snow and he's going to die please no please no please no #Signal boost Vito_

November 11th. _Maybe if I'd been there I could have helped?_

November 11th. _This is all my fault. I'm a bad person. I should have told them the truth from the start._

November 11th. _I just broke down crying over a turtle that's been mine for six months because I inherited from a guy I thought was dead who wasn't actually dead but may as well have been dead because he was an amnesiac and he never got to see it and I don't know if he's ever coming back._

November 10th. _Mom's not keen on letting these guys stay. I don't think they're keen on staying anyway. We'll see how things work out. Sounds like they want to stay in the park for now._

November 10th. _Okay, but what's hilarious is that Vito's supposed to be the fight instinct, not the flight one. That's Svetlana's thing. #Twin sibs #She's more brokenhearted than any of them I think #No duh your matching half just took off right before winter hits Canada_

November 10th. _Please come back, Vito. You're my brother. I love you. I've always loved you, even when I didn't always like you. Please don't go. I can't do this. You were the strong one. I'm just Mike. Do you know how many times I've almost lost you? You've come back before against all odds, but out there alone in winter and without a driver's license or a birth certificate or money or friends, you're going to get yourself killed. I can't watch you die again._

November 10th. _I wear deodorant I swear._

November 10th. _Was it something I said?_

November 10th. _OH CRUD THAT HAS PICTURES OF ALL YOU GUYS IN IT I'M IN SO MUCH TROUBLE IF HE SHOWS THEM TO SOMEONE WHO RECOGNIZES YOU_

November 10th. _And he took my scrapbook. Sure. Okay._

November 10th. _So Vito's gone. Just… gone. He didn't tell the others he was planning this. He literally just got up and ran away. #For no discernible reason #I'm sorry Ann Maria #tdgen2amblackburn #I have no idea where he went #Manitoba Smith says west #If anyone finds out please let me know #We're really worried for him #Can we signal boost this please?_

November 10th. _She's so mad right now._

November 10th. _She is going to flip oh my gosh what do I do?_

November 10th. _VITO JUST STOLE MY MOM'S CAR I'M DONE_

November 10th. _OVER, Cam. Isn't it past your bedtime?_

November 10th. _Okay, I don't care what you guys think. You don't understand. This conversation is over._

November 9th. _I KNOW he's Mal. Guys, I haven't forgotten. But they're my family. I can't just abandon them when they need me most. Not again._

November 9th. _I talked it over with Mom. I think we need to offer them a place to stay, but she's not biting. Thoughts? I really need advice._

November 9th. _Apparently Vito tried to murder Mal. #I would have expected it the other way honestly #Luckily Lana stepped in #Who's Saved By A Girl now?_

November 9th. _THEY GOT FIRED WHAT EVEN? I WASN'T THERE BUT ZOEY SAYS IT WAS REALLY BAD OH GEEZ #I look away for five minutes seriously #And you wonder why I like to spend my time down there #My children can't look after themselves_

November 7th. _Okay but taking Russian this year was the worst idea ever. #I really miss Svetlana_

November 6th. _Chester got his cast off today! #Chester_

November 6th. _Today I got to meet my mom's boyfriend, Kenny. He's really nice, even to me, and I like him a lot. He has two daughters that are just a few years younger than me. Fingers crossed that he's the one!_

November 5th. _Aaannnd I think I just got hacked. Half my Zoey things have… just… been replaced by pictures of kumquats. #I KNOW IT WAS YOU SCARLETT #Why didn't you delete my Scax posts though is the real question_

November 4th. _tdgen3leonardmoore What do you mean WHY am I spazzing out? In case you don't remember, I LIVE IN MANIFLIPPINGTOBA TOO and Scarlett is IN YOUR BASEMENT! She is going to get us all killed! I DO NOT HAVE TO BE OKAY WITH THIS! #Luckily I'm two-three hours drive away but still #Staci Courtney Cody are you guys okay with this?_

November 4th. _tdgen3leonardmoore WTF WHY? #Signal boost! #Scarlett lives with Leonard now?_

November 4th. _OH MY GOSH BUT WHAT IF MAX IS DEAD NOW? #That would be the end of Scax oh geez #Can I not have ONE pairing not be ruined for me please? #At least Zoke survives #Most important ship_

November 4th. _Lightning stop sinking all my ships good gracious. #Scax can still live on in my heart #They can be evil villain buddies together still right? #I mean she didn't murder him in This Is The Pits #She even invited him into the cave and elevator #We're on to you Scarlett #You sit on the throne of lies_

November 4th. _And on a more important note, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR MY BELOVED SCAX?_

November 4th. _Leonard, if you dare try, I might blast YOU with the tranq gun._

November 4th. _tdgen2amblackburn Because the mutant flying goats from the island got kind of attached to Zoey and sometimes they still show up on her doorstep. Especially in October when they were migrating? Sometimes they follow her to my house. So yeah, you learn to be prepared for the worst #I date the goat queen #You wish you were as cool as me_

November 4th. _Okay, so I just ran around and made sure every window was locked, and now I'm loading my tranq dartgun. I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight._

November 4th. _SERIOUSLY I'M FLIPPING OUT OVER HERE #Is she in jail now? This happened in June so?_

November 4th. _HOOOOLY FLIP DID YOU GUYS SEE TONIGHT'S EPISODE OF PAHKITEW? SCARLETT WTF I TRUSTED YOU! I HAD A TV CRUSH ON YOU! ZOEY AND I DREW FANART OF YOU AND IT'S STILL MAGNETED TO MY FRIDGE! YOU DON'T BETRAY FRIDGE FANART FRIENDS!_

November 4th. _Hey, if you guys upload pics to the Internet then I reserve the right to print them off for my scrapbook._

November 2nd. _Don't forget about daylight savings! #Fall back_

November 2nd. _Hanging with school friends #If math tutors count as friends_

November 2nd. _Congrats on all As, Cam! Never doubted for a second!_

October 31st. _Oh shoot I forgot Vito thinks he's allergic to peanut butter #In his defense he kind of is #Vito_

October 31st. _I'm pretty sure 14 is not too old to trick-or-treat. My angel_

October 31st. _Spending Halloween with my family and my girlfriend. #Couldn't ask for more #You only wish your squad was as cool as mine #My angel #I love my famloly #That was a pun_

October 31st. _But if anyone I know is a pirate, it's Lightning. He sinks ships. #Badum krssh_

October 31st. _That was mean and I'm a bad person I'm sorry._

October 31st. _OH HAHA! That's real funny Jo. #Pirate #Wow you're hilarious #Don't hurt yourself with that dictionary sweetheart_

October 31st. _I make a pretty good pirate. #Golden Delight_

October 31st. _Happy birthday to Brick! And of course, happy Halloween to the rest of us!_

October 28th. _Part of me feels obligated to ship Jastoba though. #Can I ship her with three different guys at once? #Is that an option? #Maybe I could set her up with Manitoba if things don't work out with Shawn_

October 28th. _Bye bye, Dave. Sorry things didn't work out between you and Sky but you kinda had it coming after that ego trip #Scarlett carried Max up that tree while she was sick #And then she didn't drop him on his head #Scax is so canon #Eating challenges are not my thing #Scarlett's adorable #Too pure for this world #Jashawn is pretty cool too #Although she could do so much better #Dave maybe? #Yeah I think I ship Javemine #Poor Jas her options aren't very good right now #I really like Jasmine a lot #She reminds me of someone I used to know #What's up with this island though?_

October 23rd. _Zoey's been sewing Halloween costumes for the gang. And finished! #My angel_

October 22nd. _SCARLETT JUST BLOWS A FREAKING RASPBERRY AT TOPHER like she's just so done #So long Toph!_

October 22nd. _Max is so good with the babies! #Scarlett will be thrilled_

October 22nd. _Topher, I don't think you're okay._

October 22nd. _Wow, Sky! The guy sacrifices his own chance at victory for you and you just betray him like that? COLD!_

October 21st. _I can't watch tonight's episode til Monday and I'm sad._

October 17th. _Sent out some college applications today! If nothing screws up my life super bad then I might have a chance! #Honestly I probably don't #But we can pretend #I get minority scholarships though so booyah #Haha thanks Kurt maybe you're good for something after all_

October 14th. _In case you guys missed it, Scax is totally canon. #Scax #Smooch City ooh #Sugar shares my ship_

October 14th. _Zoey said it's okay but that doesn't solve the actual problem._

October 14th. _JASMINE IS CLAUSTROPHOBIC #I'm sorry baby #I would hold you but I can't #And I don't know if Zoey would like that_

October 13th. _Guys, you can stop sending me notes about how MPD was officially changed to Dissociative Identity Disorder about twenty years ago. I know. Trust me- of all people, I know. I choose to refer to it this way on purpose for reasons that I just kind of assumed were obvious. #MPD problems._

October 11th. _Happy Thanksgiving! #Unless you're Brick and you actually live in Minnesota USA sucker_

October 8th. _Zoey and I went to the lake today. #My angel_

October 7th. _ELLA WHY? She was my third favorite!_

October 7th. _Isn't that your shoe tdgen1codyanderson ?_

October 2nd. _Chester's birthday today. Of course, back in his day they didn't have birthdays, and they liked it! #Chester day_

September 30th. _Samey has fallen, NO!_

September 30th. _SHAWN WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? You do not hit girls you like into lakes infested with scuba diving bears! #This is Jashawn_

September 26th. _Baking sugar cookies. #Lana nostalgia_

September 23rd. _Judging from the explosions all over my dash, I'm guessing we're talking about Rodney today #Did you girls not realize he was crushing on you at the time?#Like how did that all go?_

September 23rd. _So much homework this week ugh #New episode tonight though so yay_

September 18th. _I... don't think Mal will be invited back. #I should not have let him leave me at lunch to go "to the restroom" #Gosh dangit child I can't take you anywhere #On the bright side there's no school tomorrow now! #Mal_

September 18th. _Normally these guys get nauseous when they're apart but it looks like my fresh blood in the air is really helping. I guess because they're just apples off the tree so I can single-handedly provide all the nutrients they need. Wonder if the blood has the same effect just being inside my body and near him. #This is how science works evidently_

September 18th. _He lists murder as his favorite pastime I'm done #Mal_

September 18th. _Guys. We can see you out that window. #Chester #Manitoba Smith #Vito #Svetlana #Um aren't you guys supposed to be at work or...?_

September 18th. _Mal's first day of school! #Sry for blurriness he was chasing me down the street_

September 17th. _Truant officer's been on Mal's case all day. This is not going to end well._

September 16th. _Amy is ruthless. But WOOHOO Way to go Samey! She had it coming._

 _September 14th. Vito tried to beat me up again today. There are many jokes to be made about two unstoppable forces here #Joke's on you V cuz I'm Vito too #How bros say I love you_

September 11th. _Oh yeah, now I remember! Svet found this stray cat the other day. It sits in the back alley on the dumpster and just mewls all the time. #Lana with a cat #I think it's a calico but I could be wrong #Adorable but #My allergies suck #Thanks Spencer_

September 11th. _I'm forgetting something important, aren't I?_

September 11th. _And my first full day of being 18, all day long. Doesn't feel any different from being 14, except now I can buy my own fish from the pet store without needing parental permission. That, and I feel like hiding under my bed with the door shut. #Spencer day_

September 10th. _tdgen2zoeywhite OH SHOOT I DIDN'T MEAN IT! I am so sorry- I completely forgot you were a Capricorn too! #Please still love me_

September 10th. _tdgen2zoeywhite I'm not going to embrace Capricorn. Capricorn is stupid._

September 10th. _tdgen2zoeywhite No, I don't remember you telling me this! All these years, I thought I was Aries! #I probably should have looked it up at least once honestly_

September 10th. _tdgen2zoeywhite Wait, what do you mean I'm not an Aries?_

September 10th. _I'm just not even going to go to school today, because I already picked up all my classwork yesterday. Why am I staying home? Because it's my big birthday! At 2:38 I'll officially become a man! #I say as I sit here eating ice cubes and listening to theme songs from old cartoons #Physically 18 and mentally 14 #I'm gonna have issues by the time I'm an adult seriously #Luckily Mom and Zoey put up with me #Technically it's really just Spencer's birthday #I'm a January baby in my heart #Aries represent! #MPD problems_

September 9th. _Aw, Leonard got booted! #I'm not saying I fault them for it #I just hoped we'd get to see him help the team_

September 9th. _STACI NO! #Rarely have I ever said That is too much popcorn #But that is way too much popcorn #Staci_

September 9th. _Staci you are pretty much the worst person ever. #But I deserved that #Staci #Just you wait because when it's YOUR birthday #I'm going to burn you a disc of that Simple Flan song on repeat #You know which one_

September 9th. _She got me an early present! #Is it wrong that I'm scared? #It's just a disc of music so it should be safe #Staci_

September 9th. _Watching tonight's episode with a cool girl! #Staci_

September 9th. _Last day of this body being 17 #Or is it 14? #MPD problems_

September 8th. _tdgen2staciwilcox Zoey said it's okay by her if you come over and watch the episode at my place tomorrow if you want. But it would just be us since Zo still has to get ready for her Paris trip, so you don't have to come if that makes you uncomfortable. #I wouldn't be able to make it up to yours #Because I only have my permit and Mom can't come #Sorry you have bad friends_

September 8th. _Staci chose to withdraw her job application. Trental has little choice but to keep Chester on hand. Or so he says. Between you and me, I think he's grown fond of the old guy. Thanks, Stace. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm just really possessive of my family and I panicked. #We can still be best friends if you want?_

September 8th. _Yeah, his arm is broken :( Could take awhile to heal and will probably be sore for the rest of his life #Pray those old bones hold up._

September 8th. _Oh snap I think his arm is broken._

September 8th. _CHESTER JUST TACKLED STACI OFF A HORSE #That's karma #Comedy gold #Seriously I should probably get off my phone and see if they're all right_

September 8th. _Crossing the finish line! One lap to go! #Chester #This race is so stupid #Why is this even a thing here honestly?_

September 8th. _STACI YOU CAN'T IGNORE ME FOREVER_

September 8th. _Saddling up! #Looking good #Chester_

September 8th. _This is me and a horse on a farm #Golden Delight_

September 7th. _Sleepover! #Zeke #Please don't groom me #Staci I may have to sic him on you_

September 7th. _Long story short Trental wants to lay off Chester so he can hire Staci and her other sis. So obviously Chester signed up for a horse race today. Visiting Zeke's farm to pick up said horse. Staci, look at what you've set in motion. #Zeke_

September 5th. _Wtf Trental won't hire me because I'm his best customer are you freaking kidding me?_

September 5th. _NEW PLAN- Staci can't get the job if I get it first._

September 4th. _tdgen2b Why a picture of blueberries? What does that even mean?_

September 4th. _tdgen2b I NEED SERIOUS BACKUP HERE! I don't care if you live in Quebec- Do something about her! Are you her boyfriend or aren't you? That is a legitimate question because I never know HOW MUCH I CAN TRUST FLIPPING STACI #Compulsive lying disorder problems_

September 4th. _STACI NO PLEASE STOP_

September 4th. _STACI I'M RIGHT BEHIND YOU AND I CAN SEE YOU_

September 3rd. _I see that you said you wouldn't but I don't know if I can believe you!_

September 3rd. _STACI JANET WILCOX, CODY TOLD ME YOUR EVIL PLAN AND IT'S NEVER GOING TO WORK SO JUST STOP. They don't remember you! Please, please don't do it. Oh my gosh please please please please don't. You're going to ruin everything._

September 3rd. _SOMEONE SMACK SOME SENSE INTO HER!_

September 3rd. _I KNOW YOU'RE STILL GETTING THESE STACE!_

September 3rd. _OH WAIT UNLESS YOU WERE LYING TO ME AGAIN!_

September 3rd. _SERIOUSLY I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU'RE SPENDING THE YEAR WITH YOUR SISTER WHILE YOUR PARENTS GO TO GUATEMALA AND YOU NEED ANOTHER SOURCE OF INCOME BUT YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME_

September 3rd. _TDGEN2STACIWILCOX THIS IS NOT OKAY_

September 3rd. _STACI TAKE ME OFF IGNORE_

September 3rd. _tdgen2staciwilcox STACI IT WAS A JOKE_

September 3rd. _Wait Staci wtf you can't apply for a job at Mildred's we talked about this_

September 3rd. _And he lives in Manitoba too! #Completely in the south #Stace and I are way up north #Have fun with him Courtney #You brought this on yourself_

September 3rd. _Okay, so Court got in contact with him for me and now he's TDGen3LeonardMoore #This is hilarious #Staci we might have to invite him into the club #Why are we not watching this together honestly_

September 2nd. _His name is Leonard. I'm gonna follow him. Anyone know his last name?_

September 2nd. _THEY ACTUALLY ACCEPTED THE WIZARD GUY FROM COURTNEY'S SCHOOL ONTO THE NEW SEASON I'M DYING._

September 2nd. _SEASON OPENING tonight! You guys ready for this?_

August 29th. _Just another day at lunch #I say 3:10 is totally still lunch #Anyway I need my grilled cheese fix #It's not an obsession I swear #I just really like cheese_

August 24th. _I love me some sunset gold. #But not as much as I love #My angel_

August 24th. _I think Zoey's irritated that we're eating at Mildred's again but… #Atmosphere_

August 21st. _tdgen2staciwilcox Haha, that sucks! Maybe you'll have to get a job at Mildred's ;) Kidding. #Good luck though Stace #Disorder BFFs forever_

August 20th. _It's such a joke that this place can be abbreviated MPD and now it's managed by my former alternate personalities. If there is some sort of great spirit in this world, he or she or it must be laughing really hard right now._

August 20th. _Bonding with my big brother like men #Vito #He always forgets I'm a southpaw #Silly nerd I always win at fistfights #Especially now that I've got your instincts haha loser #Love you bro_

There were still many, many more, probably averaging out at eight or nine a day. Mostly kumquats and concerns about starting school and buying fish from the pet store and pictures of landscapes and trying to make new friends and just random pointless musings about life, and photos that hinted he may have been stalking them longer than they'd thought.

Willow scrolled through the blog for awhile more as buildings turned to tree-lined freeways and new towns and trees again, so on, so on. She went all the way up to the point where she reached July 7th. There was a picture of the front of Mildred's Pizza and Deli. Just through the window, beyond the flash that turned the glass white, she could barely make out Dallas's broad-shouldered figure and curved hat. What had he called it again? A federala?

 _You'll never guess who I found today,_ read Mike's commentary. _Apparently all my alternate personalities are still alive. They have bodies of their own and they look just like they did in subspace, minus the glowy color thing. I don't know how it happened. I don't want to question it for fear that they'll fade from existence. Right now they've found a job at this diner not far from my house. Weird, but stranger things have happened, I guess._

 _It looks like they've all had their memories wiped. Even Mal. Well, Elliot. They're calling themselves different names now because they can't remember who they were- Looks like Manitoba is Dallas, Chester is Maximus, Svetlana is Willow, and Vito is Monty._

 _I know I shouldn't be so excited that, say, Mal exists and I can't control him anymore. I know I should be concerned. But I can't. I literally can't. These past weeks, I was convinced they were gone, and part of me has been dead all this time. I was just like them once. Just another alter in a string of alters. They were the other pieces to my puzzle. But seeing them, I woke up again for the first time. I'm so glad to find out they're alive, and taking care of themselves. They're okay. What a blessing that they've had their memories wiped! Now they're free to live their own lives! They've got their second chance! Maybe they'll be friends with me? I'd really like that._

 _I'll definitely have to keep an eye on Mal, just to be sure. I can already tell that some of you are uneasy. Zoey is, as she has a right to be. But if his memories really are wiped, then we're going to be okay._

 _And you know what? I wouldn't choose to have it any other way. After all these years, I can't bear to let them go. Mostly for selfish reasons. They were my only friends. They were my guardian angels. My escape. And after all the anxiety and guilt I've allowed myself to suffer through these past eight weeks, I'll do anything to prevent them from slipping away again. They sacrificed themselves to give me my life back, with no idea if they would be thrust deep into our subconscious or wiped from existence entirely or what. Even after everything this greedy child did to them, they came through for me, of their own choice, when I needed them most._

 _I just feel like… I won. You guys can never understand what it was like, or what this means to me to know that the other chunks of my soul are still okay. Too easily, that could have been me without any memories, without even remembering Zoey or any of you at all. Even if our host personality did invent me to be the Golden Boy, I am not perfect. I am not always a good person. Most of who I am is flaws, and me trying to ignore my flaws. I've done awful things. I've said awful words. I've hurt people, and not always by accident._

 _And yet for all my faults, they all did something that I honestly don't think I would've been able to do in their place. They offered to give themselves up if necessary, not only because this seemed to be our only chance at taking down Mal and protecting you guys, but also because they wanted me to be happy. I'll be in debt forever. I owe it to them to at least try to make up for my mistakes by keeping an eye on them whenever I can, just to make sure they're still okay. I'd never forgive myself if things went so far downhill for them again. They deserve a better life._

 _#They seem weirded out by me so far #It'll take time #I'm telling you this as a heads up and a warning #So none of you have to connect the dots on your own #And get the shock of your lives #PLEASE PLEASE guys I tell you this in confidence #PLEASE if you do visit #DO NOT tell them anything about who they were before #I don't want to risk triggering bad memories #Signal boost this? #Seriously guys #I need to be the one to do this #After all since I have all the memories and just know more than they do #I'm like the big brother figure now #Just like our host made me to be #And what else are big brothers supposed to do?_

There were still other posts after that, of course. Weeks upon weeks of sappy drabbles about how much he loved Zoey, birthday wishes to friends, friendly banters with people who had faces and names Willow knew she should recognize even though she didn't, and a whole bunch of weepy guilty comments and self-loathing and wishes to change the past.

The car began to slow. "We're getting gas," Vito said, even though she hadn't asked. As they drew to a halt and he jumped out, Willow wiped the snot from her nose with the collar of her shirt. His shirt. Her shirt.

"Mike vas alvays a veird kid. I judged him for zhat, because of somezhing zhat vasn't his vault. Ze scalp prickles, I mean. Also ze vay he alvays snuck around, keeping secrets from us. He is a good person zhough, vhen he isn't trying to hide. I vish I knew he had zhis sense of humor back zhen, and zhese guilts and vorries he vas alvays hiding away. I vould have liked to be his friend."

Anne Maria stretched back her hand and lay it on Willow's knee. "You were always Mike's friend, Svet. That's what he saw you as, at least."

She let her keep her hand there. Willow spent another quick minute flicking through posts, then looked up again. "Anne Maria? Are you knowing vhat has become of Mike now?"

"I don't know where he is. He's always real vague about it. Yah'd prob'ly be better off askin' Zo. I don't know if she actually knows anythin' I don't - she won't let anythin' slip tah me - but you bein' so close tah Mike you might have better luck."

"Yes, I am knowing her e-mail. I vill be trying zhat at sometime. Anne Maria?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Vould you be helping Villow make ze Tumbling account of her own someday too? I vould like it very much if you vould introduce me to everyone I used to know. I feel like I am belonging to ze group too, you are seeing?" Although, maybe she wouldn't use the 'tdgen2willowdodger' name game. She rather liked 'championsvetlana'.

"I think we could do that. Not tonight, though," she added through a yawn.

"Anne Maria?"

"Mmhm?"

She shifted in her seat. "I am being a little afraid of zhis idea of ze hotel. But zhen again, zhat is no'zhing new to me. I am not ze brave one. I have never been ze brave one. Mont- Vito, it vould seem zhat he vas meant to be Mike's 'fighting' response to scary times. So zhen, if I am putting ze pieces togezher correctly, he vould have challenged Mike's old bullies at school. He took beatings from ze Kurt man. He never gives up- he alvays fights zhem, and he is so brave. I know zhat is true, because it feels right to say. I am not sure if you understand, but zhat is how zhis vorks. But Villow? She vas ze coward. Vhen zhings vere fright'ning for her, she alvays ran and jumped and climbed and hid. She vas veak. I am having memories of zhat, in zhey're little prickly way."

"So yah think you're not brave because yah ran from bullies?"

"Is ze cowardly zhing to do, yes. Vas she ever having any vorth? Or vas she alvays ze crybaby? Ze scared crybaby who is complaining a lot most of ze time. Who vas she as Svetlana? She cannot even be remembering. How much of her is still being Svetlana, and how much of her is ze new Villow?"

"Let me see my phone again."

Reluctantly, Willow handed it over. Vito finished with the gas and climbed back into the driver's seat. They moved. Willow entertained herself by watching stripes of light and shadow slide over his face with every passing roadside store. Anne Maria elbowed his side.

"Hey V, I'm gonna take a nap in a few. This time tap me out when you start gettin' tired."

"Ay Maria, you know I never crash."

"You al-"

"But I didn't, did I?" He shot her a smirky smile, eyes shut tight, and she slapped his cheek to bring his focus back to the road. He turned up the music.

Anne Maria gave Willow the phone once again. "Do yah know who that is, doll?"

It was Mike, skating on an ice rink beside Zoey, easily balanced on just one foot while Zoey fumbled after him, her face twisted in a frustrated way. So without thinking, Willow said, "Mike."

"No. That's you. And this right here…" She stuck out her finger and scrolled a few posts down to show Mike holding an armful of silver trophies and blue ribbons, two golden medals hanging from his neck.

"Still Villow?"

"Uh-huh. So y'aint worthless. Never were. In fact, I'd go so far as tah say you were the most useful one a' the whole darn bunch a' ya. Mike confessed once that he always thought yah were trouble, until he made it onto the show, and you showed him how helpful yah could be. And even when yah were impatient and wriggly and liked tah spring on him and hold grudges a' whatevah, he always liked yah for exactly what ya're tellin me yah hate 'bout yahself. Your personality. Whenevah he needed cheerin' up or talkin' tah, he went not to Vito, but to you."

Vito said something that Willow didn't hear, and Anne Maria smacked his shoulder. Willow allowed herself to think over the words. "I am not sure if I am believing you," she said finally, "but I am happy knowing zhat I vas vinning all zhose zhings zhat Mike kept in his bedroom, but sad knowing zhey vere probably destroyed in ze fire. I von zhem before. Perhaps vun day I shall vin zhem again. So I vill be okay vith zhat. I am knowing vhere my skills can be lying. Maybe I can even vin at ze Olympics for gymnastics."

"I'm sure yah can. You have serious moves, girlfriend. Maybe, just maybe, if you give it'cha all, you'll be able tah impress them so much they'll take yah right in. If anyone I know's gonna be the one that happens to, you'd be her."

"Zhat vould be a dream come true for Svetlana, to be competing for real. But zhere is one problem."

"What's that?"

"Must she _have_ to be competing for Canada?"

She chuckled. "I don't think they'll allow yah on the Russian team. Sorry, Svet. Willow."

"Svetlana is fine too, I am supposing."

The car fell mostly quiet, except for the radio music. After a time another song came on and Vito and Anne Maria started to sing along to it. Matching every word and every pause. Willow didn't know the lyrics. She wondered if she'd ever known them as Svetlana. Looking at the way she lived her life these days, probably not. Had she ever even bothered to just sit down and… relax?

Since Anne Maria was already logged into the account, and since she was bored, or maybe just wanted that sense of closure, Willow fumbled her way to Mike's Ask box and opened up a keyboard of letters. Her English wasn't the most amazing, even after all these struggling months, but using Russian to express her feelings to someone who couldn't read it (and was probably having a rough enough time in life as it was) just seemed rude. She wanted to tell him her thoughts using her words, her accent, her way. She wanted him to know undeniably that it was her.

 _My dearist brozer Mikey,_ she tapped, _Zis is Villow. Svetlana. Dodger. Your knowing who she is. 2 months I have bin running. It has not always bin easiest and sometimes vas very cold. But I am vith Vito and Ann Maria now so it is okay. Zank you Mike. For ze evryzing. You did evryzing right. I am very proud._

Yes, it was silly to try writing her accent - this accent she wasn't even sure how she'd gotten - and to see it written out in its clumsy way, but it made her happy, so she kept it when she pressed Ask.

Willow rested the phone face-down on her knee beside her goldfish and leaned her forehead against the window. It was cold and almost wet. She counted how many trees were growing back their leaves, but gave up after only a dozen. She counted trucks instead. She made it to fifty-eight. Then stars. Too many. Then yawns. Not enough to fall asleep.

"Are ve much farzher from ze place of our going-to now?"

"Yep. Still two hours ta go - we wanna get as far as we can before we pull over ta sleep for the night. Sit tight. Ay- and just let me know if you need me ta pull over for a bathroom break. I don't want you goin' on my seats."

"I vould be zhinking you vould be ze vun not potty-trained yet."

Anne Maria started snorting, Vito sputtered protests, and Willow broke a smile. She picked up the phone again and started to scroll up so she could re-read the post where she had won those medals. Her thumb accidentally hit the refresh button, and she waited for an impatient moment as the seconds dragged on.

Ah, cruel fate's twisted sense of humor. She was hardly even surprised when the page came back at last.

February 22nd. _tdgen2amblackburn I love you too, sis. I'm glad to hear you're all right. I knew you would be. You be nice to Ann Maria- she's a sweetheart. And for Spencer's sake, stop biting your nails or you'll run out of finger, and how will you ever fetch Canada the Olympic gold then? #Best sister ever #She's okay #Deleting this later like usual_

Willow slid her thumb from her mouth and used it to wipe her left eye. What stupid things brothers were.


End file.
